


Under the Veil: Alea Iacta Est

by lalunaunita



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, Adrien with siblings, Aged-up Chat Noir, Aged-up Ladybug, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship and partnership, Gen, Gladiator AU, Gladiator Alya, Gladiator Chat Noir, Gladiator Ladybug, Injury, Marinette secret identity, Minor Character Death, Plagg as a cat - Freeform, Tikki as a goddess, Violence, graphic combat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 19:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalunaunita/pseuds/lalunaunita
Summary: The anonymous gladiator Ladybug is a fierce fighter, matched in skill only by her partner Chat Noir from Gaul. They are owned by the Emperor Hawkmoth, who keeps a school of gladiators in Rome. She has risen through the ranks in her six years in the arena, intending to purchase or win her freedom from Emperor Hawkmoth one day. Chat Noir, the seventh son of a nobleman who governs a Gallic province, is the only person Ladybug trusts. Their partnership and success as gladiators makes them celebrities, but they are also owned by their ludus (school) and therefore have low status. Ladybug and Chat Noir are joined by the Volpinae, two sisters with a reputation for being as sly as foxes in the arena, and several other gladiators. Things change when Emperor Hawkmoth announces his betrothal to a beauty from a tribe at the outskirts of the Roman Empire. Why is Ladybug suddenly so desperate to escape?





	1. Life in Ludus Magnus

**Author's Note:**

> Please visit [k8eroseg's blog](https://k8eroseg.tumblr.com/tagged/MBB2k17) to view the beautiful illustrations that accompany this story!
> 
> To help anyone unfamiliar with the series, here is the Wikipedia summary of Miraculous: a French CGI action/adventure animated series. Set in modern-day Paris, the series focuses on teenagers Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste. When evil arises, Marinette transforms into her secret superhero persona Ladybug, while Adrien transforms into his superhero persona Cat Noir, using powerful objects known as the Miraculous. Oblivious to each other's true identities, the two work together to protect Paris from the mysterious villain Hawk Moth, who covets and attempts to steal their powers by using his akuma, butterflies infused with black energy, to transform everyday citizens into supervillains.
> 
> With a full heart, I dedicate this story to my collaborators, [@k8eroseg](https://k8eroseg.tumblr.com) (K8) and [@livinglittlelie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livinglittlelie/pseuds/livinglittlelie) (L3) who have cheered me on, sewn up plot holes, and kept me on the straight and narrow. I couldn’t have done this, or had so much fun, without you!  
> I also dedicate it to my husband, who has patiently given up evening after evening for the last four months to hear me chatter about this story.  
> To the friends and family reading, I hope you enjoy the story and accompanying art! Fanfiction is a pretty strange world, but you’ll find it is also interesting, with the same level of quality you’d expect from any regular novel or story.
> 
> Mille Grazie,
> 
> Jenny (writing as La Luna Unita)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gladiators train with Nino and the next round of games is announced.

Marinette woke to the distant sound of someone chopping wood in the side yard. She stretched, feeling sore muscles release along her shoulders and spine. The previous day’s workout had been harder than normal, pushing her to her limits in preparation for games at the end of the month. She yawned, drawing scabbed knuckles across her mouth, then rolled to sitting in her bed. It was still dark out.

Marinette swiveled her legs to the edge of her narrow cot and put her feet down on cold stones. She reached above the head of her bed with her left hand and pulled open one of the shutters of her narrow window. A desultory stream of gray, predawn light thinly illuminated her small dormitory. It was just enough to allow her to walk three steps to a wooden cabinet topped with a basin and a pitcher of water. She poured some out and splashed her face. The cold water woke her up and she shivered.

“Ugh, Tikki, I want to go back to bed…” she grumped.

A high pitched giggle answered her.

“No chance of that, Marinette. You didn’t have to work so hard yesterday; I could have helped you.”

Tikki’s tiny voice felt close to Marinette’s ear and she turned her head to see the little goddess was perched on her shoulder. She smiled at the tiny figure. Tikki reminded her of a small red bird or bug when she did that.

“I know, but it’s better for me to train on my own. I’ll take help when I really need it, but I should be at my best at all times anyway, right?”

Marinette opened the trunk at the foot of her bed and rummaged around for something to wear. Her thin nightshirt wasn’t much protection against the cold, although she had a thick woolen blanket on the bed. She drew out the mask she wore daily over her eyes and set it to one side, then tugged a woolen tunic loose from an untidy jumble of clothing at one end of the trunk. She shrugged into it and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders.

She pulled a comb through her dark hair and pinned it into two small buns at the nape of her neck. After strapping her leather shoes to her feet, she tied on her red mask - the last, but most important piece of her ensemble. With it, she became the person all Rome knew her to be: Ladybug, the city’s fiercest gladiator.

“I’ll talk to you later, Tikki. Have a good morning,” Ladybug watched as the ethereal creature faded into a small red statuette stationed on a table next to her cot.

The smells of a fire and baking bread greeted Ladybug when she opened her door. Her room was set into the west wall of Ludus Magnus on the first floor. Ladybug crossed an open area at the southwest corner of the rectangular school, past a fountain situated in the shadow of a large, elliptical arena that took up the entire center of the Ludus Magnus.

She followed her nose to the warm kitchen and knocked at the entryway, smiling when she saw their cook Orania jump in surprise.

“Oh! Ladybug, you startled me! I should have expected you, though. You’re always such an early riser,” Orania said with a smile, waving the young woman in.

Ladybug came to a broad stone oven and put her hands close to warm them. “What can I say? I wake up hungry.”

Ladybug lifted a wide wooden paddle with no effort and shoved it into the waist-high mouth of the oven, deftly slipping it underneath several round loaves of baking bread. She liberated them from the heated surface and swung the paddle around with a strong grip. She dumped the loaves unceremoniously on a wooden work table to cool, eyeing them greedily and touching one to see if it was too hot to handle.

“Well, as long as you’re here and waiting for those to cool, help me knead this set.”

Orania dragged a large ceramic bowl across the work surface. Ladybug dumped out a lump of dough and pushed it expertly down and away, turning it clockwise and working it over and over. Orania joined her with another large lump of dough and they worked in companionable silence.

“No one ever believes me that bakers have strong arms,” Ladybug joked as Orania wielded the paddle and centered the loaves over the oven’s heat.

“Well, compared to a gladiator, probably not,” Orania conceded.

Ladybug snagged three cooled loaves, one more than she should have, and stacked them in both hands. Orania arched an eyebrow at Ladybug’s brazen smile, glancing pointedly at the loaves in her grip.

“Ah, keep them,” she relented, shooing the younger woman out of the kitchen. “Payment for doing a baker’s work.”

“Thank yoooou!” Ladybug sailed out of the kitchen with a wink.

In the communal hall, a few sleepy-eyed early risers were sitting at long, wooden tables that stretched across the open space. Ladybug didn’t recognize them, but she recognized the apprehensive look of newly purchased gladiators. Nathalie, Ludus Magnus’ _lanista_ , had been to the slave auctions yesterday.

The two youths were handsome and well-built; Nathalie was highly keen on the showman side of gladiatorial combat and sought out good-looking men and women to fill the empty barracks of the _ludus_. Handsome faces sold more tickets and brought more favor.

Looking at their haunted eyes, Ladybug remembered her first day after being forced to sign her school contract. She sighed and made her way through the tables and benches, dropping two of her loaves in front of the young men. The pair startled out of their sleepy daydreaming and looked up at her.

“Eat. You’ll need it on the training field,” she instructed, giving a tight, insincere smile.

A modicum of kindness, and no sympathy, she reminded herself.

The men stared at her red mask, unsure. Ladybug walked away before either could manage a word, leaving the loaves with them. She knew this would likely be the nicest thing anyone did for them today; hopefully it was just nice enough to keep up their spirits in the practice arena, but not enough for them to try and make friends. She felt a little foolish, taking such precautions, but she’d befriended new gladiators before, only to have them die weeks or months later.

Ladybug grabbed a ceramic cup from a stack set against one table, then paused. A round serving bowl was piled high with fresh, hard boiled eggs. This definitely made up for giving away her extra loaves. She took a red clay bowl from a stack next to the cups and dumped her bread in it, then added three eggs to the top.

Satisfied with the food she’d gathered, she returned to her room. She stopped at the southwest fountain to dip her cup in, then hurried to her dormitory, breath puffing out in a cloud ahead of her. She shut her door behind her and set the breakfast down on her small table, taking a seat in the chair that went with it.

”Eggs, Tikki!” she called out before cheerfully rolling the shells against the wood and peeling them. She ate two of the eggs, then consumed all but one wedge of her bread loaf. She gulped down her water and sat back with a sigh. “That’s good.”

A burp popped out, causing her to clap a hand over her mouth. She’s been among the Romans far too long; their barbaric ‘etiquette’ was corrupting her. Oh, well, at least no one could hear - no one besides Tikki. Ladybug collected the pieces of breakfast she had set aside, put them in the red bowl, and set it in front of Tikki’s tiny figurine.

“Mistress Tikki, protector of my people, I make this offering in gratitude for your patronage,” she said formally.

Tikki appeared from behind the statue and rather adorably pretended nonchalance before digging into the food. She finished as quickly as Ladybug had, then popped back out of view with a whispered thanks just as a knock sounded at the door.

 _What is he doing, knocking so early?_ Ladybug thought. She felt the bracing cold as she pulled her door open to admit Adrien, another gladiator of the _ludus_.

“Good morning, Ladybug. Bit chilly, isn’t it?” Her tall partner shuffled into the room with his blanket wrapped around him. Over his shoulders, she could see the sky lighten with the impending dawn.

“You better get your breakfast. There are eggs today; that won’t last long.”

Adrien’s eyes lit up at the mention of eggs.

“We should get moving then,” he urged, and Ladybug laughed.

“You forget something?” she pointed.

He looked down at himself, noticing the blanket, and a grin danced across his handsome visage. He shrugged it off and threw it across Ladybug’s bed, ignoring her protests.

“I’ll be back here later, anyway,” he said, tugging Ladybug’s arm in the direction of the door.

She followed, laughing, and quickly found herself back in the dining hall. She dumped her used dishes in a basket set next to the kitchen door, then caught up with Adrien just as he popped the first of several peeled eggs in his mouth whole. He managed to close his lips around it, causing his cheeks to puff out comically. Ladybug stifled her giggle, knowing from experience Adrien couldn’t help but join in. Sure enough, his cheeks tightened and a crack in the seam of his lips appeared, spilling a crumb of half-chewed egg yolk onto the floor.

“You are so gross,” Ladybug admonished.

He responded by stuffing a second peeled egg in with the first. Amazingly, Adrien managed to masticate the entire mess and accomplish a few swallows, clearing just enough of his mouth to choke out a request for water.

Ladybug shook her head, torn between disgust and amusement, and took a fresh cup out to the fountain. She returned to the hall and he grabbed the cup gratefully, sloshing drops down his tunic as he downed the entire drink.

“You eat like an animal, Adrien. It’s going to mess with your digestion,” Ladybug chided.

Adrien ignored her, grabbing his bread ration and two more eggs. “Come on; we have to get out to the arena.”

They walked side by side out of the dining hall and crossed ten feet to the enormous elliptical area that took up most of the school’s square footage. Surprisingly, there were a few children and even some adults already in the seats, high above the ground. Ladybug shook her head. It still confused her that anyone would get up before the dawn on a day when they didn’t have to work, just to come down and see gladiators spar and beat each other up.

Compared to a real game, there was very little blood, a sight these Romans always seemed to enjoy. Just looking up into the seats, empty as they were, set her ears back with the remembered roars of multitudes who cheered for her, cheered for the other guy, or just plain cheered for the sake of brutal blood sport.

Adrien let out a soft sigh next to her. She glanced up to see him staring about the arena as she’d been doing, but his face wore a softer, almost happy expression. She had a feeling he was engaged in similar reminiscence, but relishing the experience.

“Ladybug! Adrien! In front now!” the stern yell brought them both running forward across dusty, dead grass to stand before the imposing figure of Nino, their first trainer of the morning. His normally relaxed brow was drawn close as he surveyed the two of them, Ladybug shucking her shawl to one side and Adrien attempting to shove one last egg in his mouth without anyone noticing.

“Adrien, spit it out,” Nino growled, taking a step forward.

Adrien immediately complied, breaking Nino’s gaze for a moment to turn his head. In that split second, Nino brought up the butt of his wooden practice sword; it nearly collided with Adrien’s jaw, but he sprang backward, bringing up a fist to protect his face. He stood in a defensive posture, eyeing the broad _gladius_ trainer, who grinned and drove the tip of the practice sword into the dirt, placing both hands over the handle in front of him.

“Not bad, Cat, not bad at all,” Nino allowed. “I guess I’ve finally pounded those lessons about keeping your guard up into your head.”

Adrien relaxed and smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You have, Nino. Literally.”

Nino turned to face Ladybug. “And you, Ladybug, I know you can move faster than you did yesterday. I’m not pulling any punches with you. It doesn’t do you any favors.”

Ladybug nodded behind her mask, no trace of a smile on her face.

The two were excused to warm up and grab practice weapons. Adrien fought with two sharp swords in the arena as a _dimacherius_. Ladybug wasn’t strictly required to learn sword fighting, since she was a _retiarius_ , using a net, trident, and dagger. She’d long believed, however, that it was better to have a working knowledge of every kind of weapon.

They warmed up their muscles with practice swords, Adrien whirling and leaping acrobatically in the manner that brought him so much fame with the ladies of Rome. Ladybug matched him step for step in an imitation game that left them both breathless and sweating by the time the rest of Nino’s students arrived. Last to come was Ladybug’s friend Alya, who stepped up to the line mere moments before the shimmering crash of a bronze gong sounded the beginning of the first lesson of the day.

Nino fixed the young woman with a glare, betraying no hint that she was his wife and the mother of his child. On the field, Nino contended, all familial affection and love must be put aside. Anything less than fighting for one’s life would lead to death. His students grasped his philosophy eagerly and treated their teacher and their fellow gladiators with a deadly serious respect.

“Good of you to join us, Alya. Take Ladybug and Lila and start with the punching bags.” He raised his voice to the rest of the group. “This is day two of the tetrad, people. Expect some injury today.”

A few of the gladiators groaned, but they fell in line as Nino assigned groups and started work with a few at a post called the _palus_ with practice swords and shields. The wooden swords were twice the weight of actual swords used in the arena, but Nino was unforgiving as he corrected form and insisted on repetition after repetition of thrusts and parries.

With punching bags, Nino’s version of doubling the weight was to have two gladiators punch and kick a rectangular torso bag held by one gladiator. No moment was wasted on the training ground; the one who held the bag used their position to strengthen core muscles and endurance as they took hits.

“Running late changing nappies, Sis?” Lila grunted as she landed a forceful front kick squarely into the center of Alya’s bag.

Ladybug followed up with a leap that landed her knee against the high side of the bag; she heard Alya’s breath whoosh out as her feet gave an inch on the gravelly dirt below them.

“Actually, yeah. That kid shits more than a greased goose. Here, switch.” Alya handed Lila the bag and took her kick stance.

Lila tossed her long hair and planted her feet, knees bent. “That’s just like you. Blaming my cute little nephew for your tardiness.”

Her voice tightened as Alya rained a hail of punches onto the bag, forcing Lila to tense up her whole body or be knocked over. Ladybug joined in. Lila had to tilt the bag left and right like a shield, lest she leave her side body open to either opponent. Biceps exhausted, the two women took turns kicking, doing their level best to rock Lila back.

After another switch, with the competent sisters giving their all to force Ladybug back mere inches in the dirt, they returned to Nino for further instruction. Ladybug rolled her shoulder and sighed in relief at a loud pop. Second day training always felt like it went on forever. They rotated stations as the winter sun climbed the sky.

At the close of training, the entire gladiator population gathered for announcements. Their _lanista_ , Nathalie, stepped up to address the community. Adrien found Ladybug in the crowd next to Alya and Lila, and made a point of draping a sweaty arm over Ladybug’s shoulder until she shrugged him off, intent on listening.

“Gladiators, the _Ludi Victoriae Sullae_ will commence in three days. We have ten new recruits among us; please welcome them when you see them. They will not be participating in the _ludi_ , but they will be there to cheer you on. As always, Ludus Magnus and Emperor Hawkmoth expect nothing less than the best from each of you. If you are not fit to conquer in the arena, then we expect you to die well. Do not bring shame upon our house.”

Her fiery gaze seemed to take in every one of the gladiators at once. Ladybug was amused to see some of the big men shuffling their feet. “ _Ludi_ schedule is posted outside the dining hall. If you are participating, you are invited to a formal _cena libera_ , hosted by Senator Gnaeus Aufidius Afer. Attendance is mandatory. You are dismissed.”

Nathalie turned and marched out of the central ring, tired gladiators trailing slowly behind her. Ladybug sighed and rotated her right arm, feeling a bruise begin where Lila had landed a particularly fierce kick against her ribs.

“You okay, LB?” Adrien asked.

“Nothing that a bath and a day of rest won’t cure. Don’t worry about me.”

Ladybug trudged slowly toward the women’s baths, away from Adrien. He adjusted his course and followed her a moment longer.

“I don’t. And I won’t. I’ll see you later?”

Marinette nodded curtly. “Once I’m presentable. Adrien... stop.”

He looked at her, puzzled. “Stop what?”

“Stop walking. We’re at the women’s baths. You can’t go in.”

An uncharacteristic blush spread across Adrien’s cheeks as he realized where he stood. “Oops. Sorry. Yeah, I’ll see you at dinner.”

He turned on his heel and quickly went back the way he’d come. Marinette smiled as she watched his retreat. It was hard to believe anything could embarrass Adrien anymore. Shaking her head, she followed the other women to the baths, eager to rest her sore, aching limbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ludus - a school for gladiators  
> Tetrad - a training cycle style consisting of four days, the second being particularly difficult and the third being a rest day.  
> Retiarius - a gladiator armed with a net, a trident, and a dagger. The retiarius was not well-armored and relied on agility to survive.  
> Lanista - the manager of a ludus, who organizes matches, purchases gladiators, etc.  
> Gladius - sword.  
> Dimacherius - a gladiator with two swords and little armor. This type of gladiator was somewhat of a novelty fighter and not a lot of records exist to explain exactly what they wore or used in a fight.


	2. Letting the Cat Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gladiators are assigned for the upcoming games. Ladybug verbally spars with Nathalie, her lanista.

Adrien was lying patiently on his bed, hands folded over his abdomen, when he heard his partner’s knock.

“Enter!” he called and the wooden door pushed inward, revealing a flying blanket that hit him in the face. “Thanks for that,” he spluttered, sitting up and pulling the blanket off of him.

Ladybug leaned against the his doorpost with a teasing smile.

“You’re welcome. You want to go to dinner now? Alya and Nino are already there.” She pointed a thumb over one shoulder behind her. 

Adrien jumped up. “You bet. Is Lila joining?”

Adrien didn’t miss the way Ladybug silently bristled at the question, nor the way she controlled her reaction to produce an even-toned response.

“Mm-hmm.”

“The kick from earlier was personal, huh? You two fighting over me again?” Adrien teased. 

Ladybug laughed. “Only one of us is fighting over you, you egotistical _bulla crustulum_. And she’s welcome to you.”

She turned and started down the walkway toward the dining hall. Adrien followed behind, lengthening his stride to catch her.

“Egotistical stud muffin? That’s a new one,” he chuckled.

“Really? I’m surprised you haven’t heard it before,” replied Ladybug drolly as she hitched her shawl up over her tunic.

She’d let her hair down and combed it out in the baths, Adrien noticed. The long, dark mass shone in late afternoon light as it swung heavily around her shoulders. He loved to see it loose like that, but he knew that as soon as it was fully dry, it would go back up against her head. He wondered if she would ever let her ridiculous bangs grow out, but she insisted on cutting the fringe short to keep her eyes clear in the arena.

The entire _ludus_ had already viewed Nathalie’s posted schedule for the _Ludi Victoriae Sullae_ earlier in the day. It was more or less what Adrien had expected, after being partnered with Ladybug for the last four months, but he was pleasantly surprised to see that they were competing in the most favored time slot - and against a pair from Ludus Gallicus. The crowds loved to see variety in the arena, and Ludus Gallicus’ competitors would almost certainly be heavily armored bruisers, while Ladybug and Chat Noir remained nimble, with almost no armor to protect them. 

A familiar child’s cry greeted them over the hum of conversation in the dining hall. Adrien moved swiftly past Ladybug to intercept one-year-old Remus, his mother just behind him. Adrien tickled the boy, who giggled and tugged at the _bulla_ around his neck. Adrien handed the child back to Alya as she came up, arms open wide.

“Thanks,” she acknowledged with a grin. “I can’t keep this kid still, now that he knows how to walk.”

“Eh, he just needs someone to run him ragged; he’ll be out like a light,” Adrien reassured her. 

Alya lifted one eyebrow, but softened at the well-intentioned advice. “That’s right. Three younger sisters, correct? Did they have as much energy as boys?”

Adrien chuckled. “More. Way more. They could have outrun half the gladiators in here.” 

The three adults laughed as they joined Nino and Lila at table. Nino looked up from his plate with a bright smile, the persona of their harsh trainer completely gone. Alya settled Remus between them. He wiggled and tried to slip under the table, but his mother gripped his wrist to keep him on the bench.

“Here, hand him to me,” Adrien directed, holding both hands out. 

Nino lifted the boy’s legs high over tableware and serving platters while Alya slid Remus’ plate of food in front of Adrien. 

“Whatcha doing, Little Man? You need some dinner if you want to get strong like Pater,” Adrien coaxed, pulling the child into his lap and putting a small bite of fish to his lips.

“Tata,” Remus agreed and accepted the bite. Now Alya and Nino raised their eyebrows as they watched their son take everything Adrien offered him.

“Seriously, dude, we’ve been trying to get him to eat for a half hour,” Nino complained.

“Only ten minutes,” Lila corrected from a few places down, “but it’s felt like thirty. Kid’s stubborn.” 

Adrien quelled her attitude with a cool stare. Lila grabbed her cup for a sip of wine, shrugging. 

“Just sayin’.”

“Adrien, what do you want? I’ll make you a plate so you can keep working your magic on Remus. Ladybug, you want to come with me?” Alya stood and motioned to her friend.

They returned with full plates and retook their seats just as Remus yawned and laid his head on Adrien’s shoulder.

“So what’s everyone doing with their rest day?” Lila asked, raising her voice to be heard over the din of the hall.

Alya and Ladybug glanced at each other. “Shopping,” they chorused, making Nino groan.

“Guess I’ll be chillin’ with Remus,” he said ruefully.

“I’ll join you,” Adrien added. “We can get him started on sword training with a stick.”

“And poke his eye out? No, thank you,” Alya interjected, “I already told Nino we have to wait until he’s three. Are you coming with, Lila? We need stuff to wear to the _cena_.” The younger sister looked from Alya to Adrien, then back to Alya.

“Mmmmm… undecided. I’ll see how I feel in the morning,” Lila replied.

They passed the remainder of the meal in friendly conversation. Once Remus had a full belly and had been run up and down the aisles ten times by Adrien, Alya and Nino took their leave with their son. The boy waved charmingly over Alya’s shoulder as they exited, hiding his grin in his mother’s voluminous hair. 

Adrien settled back with a cup of wine next to Ladybug, dispelling a slight chill between she and Lila as they ate and drank in silence. Lila pushed back from her plate and brought her legs over the bench to stand. 

“Well, I’m done,” she announced, picking up her empty plate and cup. She leaned over to Adrien, her lips curved in a knowing smile. “See you later?”

Adrien cleared his throat and Ladybug was surprised to see him look a little embarrassed. “Uh, probably not tonight, Lila. Sorry.”

She frowned and gave a tiny shrug, then tossed her long, chestnut hair. 

“Your loss,” she replied, and sashayed away.

Ladybug considered whether to say anything, but her mouth opened against her better judgement. 

“She’s got it bad for you,” she commented, plucking a dried fig off of her plate and chewing slowly.

“Yeah, but I don’t have it bad for her,” he replied. “That’s...kind of a problem.”

“Especially around women who can kill you in your sleep,” agreed Ladybug.

“Nobody’s tried yet,” Adrien defended himself, stretching his strong arms wide and dropping them to his sides.

“Mmmm. Watch out for poison.” His eyes dropped to his plate in alarm and Ladybug laughed. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

“Yeah, you are until you’re not. It’s hard to read you sometimes, Ladybug.”

“And you’re an open book, Kitty. If you want to spend the night with Lila, I’m not stopping you.” Ladybug caught a hint of color in his cheeks.

“I don’t,” he said, his voice low but firm. Ladybug caught the hard glint in his green eyes, his signal to drop the subject.

“Got it,” she replied mildly, then looked in the other direction to see several new recruits bussing their dishes and leaving. She jumped on the change of subject. “Have you talked to any of our new gladiators yet?”

Adrien relaxed his tense posture, stretching long legs under the table and leaning back to get a better view of the new _familia gladitoria_. “I think I said _salve_ in passing. Strapping young men, aren’t they?”

“Let’s hope they have the brains to go with their figures. Ludus Magnus could use a few more experienced hands. I’m tired of seeing the young ones go too soon.”

“That’s the life, Ladybug. Not everyone is born to the arena like you.” 

Ladybug sighed and clamped her mouth shut. She was not going to travel down that well-worn discussion tonight. Fortunately, Adrien had other ideas. 

“Hey, you feel like a game of _tabula_? I have the board in my room.”

Ladybug readily agreed. “Sure! I’ll grab snacks and meet you at my dorm?”

They bussed their dishes and Adrien left to collect the game. Ladybug shook her head as she crossed the open area, smiling. Sometimes she felt like she should get tired of seeing Adrien all the time, but then he’d suddenly find some way to be charming that didn’t irritate her yet, or pick out just the right activity to soothe away her crankiness. And besides all that, he saved her life semi-regularly.

Having spent the last six years as a slave, she wasn’t very sure what relationships with men were supposed to look like, other than the obvious physical part. But she often wondered whether even married couples got along this well, or talked this much, or played and worked together the way Ladybug and Chat Noir did. Maybe it was something she could ask Tikki about. Adrien was standing at her door when she arrived. 

“Ready to get your butt kicked?” he smiled.

“Anytime, anyplace, Adrien,” she replied.

She opened up her room, setting down a purloined wineskin and bread and cheese. Ladybug lit a lamp in her cold quarters and they settled down to business.

 

Marinette woke early on rest day, despite Adrien’s attempts to keep her up late and keep her full of wine. She heard snores next to her bed and suddenly remembered the young man hadn’t made it back to his room. She peeked over the edge of her mattress to where he lay on the floor. She had a vague recollection of giggling as she’d drunkenly covered him with any extra piece of clothing she’d had to keep him warm. He was stretched out full length on his back, his feet uncovered. They were surely cold, she thought, shivering in the early morning air.

Marinette pursed her lips, thinking. With light, quiet movements, she stepped over him to the chest with the pitcher and basin, intent on grabbing a small towel left there. Whether it was her aching body or whether she was still wine-befuddled, she’d never know, but her normally flawless agility deserted her in the moment and she tread hard upon Adrien’s hand.

“Oops,” she whispered as he grunted and kicked a leg out.

She snatched the towel and leaned over with exaggerated care to settle it over his long toes without a whisper of sound.

“So that’s what you look like,” Adrien suddenly murmured, and Marinette froze in place.

“ _Merda_ ,” she whispered, “ _merda, merda, merda_.”

She felt her face, even though she could see her mask hanging at the edge of her bed frame where she’d carelessly dropped it the night before. She went to retrieve it, but Adrien’s next words stopped her.

“You’re pretty. I knew you were. Nice to see.” He blinked sleepily at her down the length of his body.

A blush suffused Marinette’s face from her forehead all the way down to her collarbone. She squatted down on her haunches and tucked the inadequate towel around Adrien’s feet.

“Cat’s out of the bag, I guess,” she muttered. 

Her eyes darted back up to his. Any hope that he would fall back asleep and forget the whole thing was dashed when she saw mischievous curiosity radiating from the grass-green depths.

“Yeah, the cat generally refuses to go back in. There’s a betting pool, you know. Horrible scarring, missing eyebrows, third eye, all kinds of suppositions. I bet on third eye - but I think it’s actually in the back of your head.”

“I… guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” Marinette sat down fully on the cold floor just as Adrien sat up, careful to keep the wash towel positioned around his cold feet.

“You obviously don’t need the mask. Why do you wear it?” He reached forward and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.

Marinette sat up straight and pulled away, the errant tress escaping from Adrien’s hand as she did so. “No offense, Adrien, but that’s my business.”

“All right. Fair enough. But… just so you know, you never needed a mask between the two of us. Whatever secrets you need to keep, I’ll keep them too.”

Marinette felt her rigid reserve melting. “I know that, Adrien. I guess I’m just not ready.”

“Well, since Fate has finally deigned to allow me a glimpse of your beauty, any chance I could have a name to go with it?” Adrien’s grin at her renewed blush made his eyes practically glow in the predawn gloom.

Marinette sighed, questioning the wisdom of her reply even as it passed her lips. “You, and only you, can call me Marinette.”

“Marinette,” he repeated, a hint of a smile drawing up one side of his mouth. 

He shivered suddenly, gripping his arms through his makeshift blanket of women’s clothes. “It got cold in here.”

“Climb into the bed,” Marinette suggested, earning her a raised eyebrow and a lascivious smirk.

“Why, my Lady, your name and your favor? This is all going so fast for me.” Adrien’s amusement only grew when she punched him on the arm.

“No, I’m getting up. You can have the bed if you want to sleep some more.”

The pair rose, Marinette’s spare tunic and other items falling to the floor as Adrien stretched and shook himself. He leaned forward and fell right into her bed, causing it to creak in protest. Marinette gathered her generous blanket, scrunching it up in her hands, then cast it forward over him as if it were a net. She held the bottom edge and settled it neatly over his feet as the top floated gently down over his shoulders. Adrien laughed. 

“Retiarius technique?” he asked with a yawn that betrayed how tired he still was.

“No, that’s how my mother used to do it,” replied Marinette. “Sweet dreams, Adrien.”

He rolled toward the wall, eyes closed. Marinette took a moment to pick up her things and wash her face, then left the room, securely closing the door behind her. 

She’d barely sat down with breakfast when a red-faced servant came running up and announced that Nathalie required an interview. Ladybug pushed her food away with a sigh. She followed the servant to Nathalie’s office, a tightly-packed space full of shelves to hold precious scrolls, wax tablets, and other records pertaining to the business of the _ludus_.

“Take a seat,” Nathalie commanded.

Ladybug complied, looking at her _lanista_ warily. Nathalie never called her in to encourage, congratulate, or praise. Ladybug wondered what she’d done this time.

“How much money do you have saved?” Nathalie asked bluntly, steepling her fingers over her desk.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” replied Ladybug.

Nathalie’s brows furrowed with annoyance. “It’s my business because I represent your master, the Ageless Emperor. Therefore, you may as well consider _me_ your master. You’ve set a goal of buying out your contract, correct?”

Ladybug grumpily crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t want to discuss financial affairs with the woman who held the purse strings.

“It’s common knowledge,” Nathalie snapped. “I’m trying to do you a favor. There’s a certain gentleman requesting female gladiators for a mock battle to be acted out in his home. The guest list is good and they’ll pay well in tips. He’s arranged for costumes-”

“Not a chance, Nathalie,” Ladybug interrupted. “Look, I’ll win my fights. I’ll wave at the crowds. I’ll rub shoulders at a _cena_. I will not, under any circumstances, perform at one of these lewd showcases pretending to be theatre. I don’t care how rich the audience is or how good the tips. I’m a gladiator, not a harlot. How much did this man offer you for a recruiting fee, anyway?”

Nathalie cleared her throat and looked away. Ah, so there _had_ been a kickback.

She continued as though the question hadn’t been asked. “In that case, you’d better be ready for the games. You’ve risen through the ranks to become _primus palus_ , but I’ve seen better gladiators than you knocked off their high horse, Ladybug. Prestige isn’t a lasting fixture in a _ludus_.”

Ladybug stood abruptly. “Is that all? I have rest day activities planned.”

Nathalie narrowed her eyes in fury, but simply waved one hand toward the door, excusing Ladybug. Ladybug wondered if she should sleep with a knife under her pillow for a few nights. She wasn’t entirely convince her _lanista_ was above a little blatant murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salve - hello (and still 'hello' in Italian! I love this word!)  
> Cena libera - literally "free dinner" a nice dinner gathering prior to a gladiator match.  
> Primus palus - "first post" - refers to the post used for gladiator training. The most celebrated/victorius gladiator of a school holds this designation.


	3. Rest Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladybug and Alya go shopping on their rest day.

Alya was giggling when Ladybug caught up with her at a forum stall displaying beaded jewelry. The rest day morning had turned out bright and clear. A light walk around the local forum marketplace had restored Ladybug’s equilibrium after her chat with Nathalie.

“What’s so funny?” inquired Ladybug, eyebrows raised behind her mask as Alya ran her hands lightly over several necklaces on a table.

“Those. Hilarious.” Alya pointed at a tray of hair combs clearly intended for child’s make-believe play. Several pairs of leather triangles were stitched to small metal pins meant to catch and hold in the hair.

“I don’t get it. What are they?” 

At this, the stall’s proprietor stood up and approached. 

“May I?” she indicated Alya’s voluminous locks and the redhead nodded with a chuckle. The proprietor fastened two triangles atop Alya’s head, adjusting the leather until it stood up stiffly. “They’re cat ears. Great for imaginative play, if you want your child to practice storytelling. The stitching holds up, too. I only sell quality work.”

A grin tugged at one side of Ladybug’s mouth. “For a black cat, huh?” 

It blossomed into a full smile as Alya caught her gaze.

“Oh, no. You wouldn’t,” Alya dissolved into giggles again as Ladybug reached for her money.

“It’s as good as done. How much for a pair?”

Ladybug and the shopkeeper haggled for a few moments, then exchanged the money and goods. Ladybug dropped the broad ears into her shopping bag, humming to herself as Alya joined her outside the stall.

“He’ll never wear them,” predicted Alya as they strolled the walkway of the forum.

“It doesn’t matter. I just want to see the look on his face when he gets them.” 

The women laughed again, stopping short as a particularly tasty-smelling stall caught their attention. Alya pointed a thumb at a table of grilled finger foods, and both women selected items, coins jingling into the old, gnarled hand of the cook. 

“We need to get you something for the _cena_ ,” Alya reminded her as they nibbled, passing stalls for olive oil, raw fabric, exotic imports, and pottery. 

A bright flash of red caught Ladybug’s eye at a weaver’s stall. The pair passed under voluminous curtains showcasing the weaver’s skill and entered a brightly-colored tumble of scarves, _stollas_ , _pallas_ , and other clothing. Beaded leather slippers were lined up in pairs along one side. Dazzled, Ladybug made a beeline for a broad red scarf of thin, finely woven material.

“What’s this made of?” Ladybug asked the proprietor, a thin woman with long, capable hands. She sat on a stool, embroidering the edge of a tunic with an intricate design.

“Imported silk. I received a shipment earlier this year; you won’t find silk like that anywhere else in Rome. I think the red dye sets off the natural sheen, don’t you?” The woman smiled, revealing a charming dimple.

Ladybug ran her fingers lightly over the fine weave, marveling at the tiny threads that made up its matrix. She imagined the feel of owning something like this, almost a half-remembrance, actually, of the fine things her mother used to wear. Ladybug had a sudden flash of playing dress-up in her mother’s cast-offs as a child, but she shook it off. Looking down, she was embarrassed to see she had clutched the scarf in her hands without thinking, crinkling its fine, smooth texture. She did have prize money, to be sure, but not enough for her freedom, and not enough for a fine thing like this. Regretfully, she laid the scarf back atop its pile in a woven basket, running her hand over the beautiful fabric one last time.

“It’s lovely,” Ladybug told the weaver. “I can’t afford silk, though. You have the hands of a master. I hope your work finds someone who can appreciate it.”

Ladybug turned to go, but the woman’s next words stopped her. “You’re the real Ladybug, aren’t you?”

“Sure am,” Ladybug replied, turning back with a smile. “Would you like an autograph? I can sign my name.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine. I thought you were someone playing in a mask at first. You look smaller than you do in the arena. You bring…” the woman tapped her chin with a long finger as she thought, “...how can I say it? You bring some much-needed gravitas to the gladiator industry. You don’t mock death, and I think that’s important. Especially these days, when so many play to the cheers of the crowd.” 

The woman smiled broadly at Ladybug’s wide eyes. “Not what you expected from a fan? My work gives me a lot of time for introspection.”

Ladybug shook her head. “I suppose it does. I never thought about that. Um, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You know what? I don’t want an autograph, but I do want to give you this scarf.” The woman stood and plucked the red scarf up again, shaking it out to show its full size. It billowed and wafted magically down to the woman’s feet. Ladybug gaped. 

“I - it’s - so expensive,” she stammered and the lady waved her prominent hands at the young gladiator.

“You’ve got games in two days. This could be my last chance to give Ladybug a gift. Don’t take it right now, though. How about I dye some black spots on it? You can pick it up tomorrow.”

“That would be wonderful,” Ladybug breathed. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s my privilege,” the woman said, retaking her seat and tucking the scarf to one side.

“In that case,” broke in Alya, who had watched the exchange with uncharacteristic silence, “I’d like to buy a few items, if I may. A friend of gladiators is always appreciated.” 

The proprietor moved smoothly into merchant mode, and Ladybug left them to their dickering. She ducked back out of the stall to wait for Alya, her excitement at the promised gift bringing a blush to her cheeks. She’d wear the expensive scarf to the _cena_ , and she’d look beautiful, or at least as beautiful as a mask could allow.

Ladybug usually eschewed the material trappings that fascinated the elite. She couldn’t afford to get distracted; too many gladiators had let fine living dull their senses, only to die young in very violent ways. Not she. Alya rejoined her, a lovely orange _stolla_ folded over one arm and a new pair of slippers dangling from her hand. 

“Good prices. We need to remember Weaver Titia Leddica. I bet even Nathalie would like some of her wares.”

Ladybug eyed the _stolla_ appreciatively. “How much prize money did you go through for that? Nino’s eyes are going to pop out one way or the other.”

“Um, rude. I’m not going to disclose the details of my bargain. Not everyone has the masses falling all over themselves to give them expensive gifts. Although there are a few, _ahem_ , gentlemen who would like to persuade me to leave my husband in favor of their wealth and prestige. You know, save me from this low class life I lead.” 

Alya tossed her hair to one side, cocking one hip in a confident pose and batting her eyelashes prettily. The two friends cracked up. 

“Don’t you ever get offers of marriage?” she asked Ladybug.

“Actually, fewer than you might think, Alya. I think the men of Rome find me intimidating. Oh, and this doesn’t help.” Ladybug tapped the side of her red leather mask.

“You’re obviously a beauty, even with it. Men are stupid.”

“I’m not looking to get married, with or without the mask. Don’t worry about it.”

“Now, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t encourage you toward domestic bliss?” Alya chided. “Every woman in Rome is supposed to want a family and a household to run. It’s the natural order of things.”

“As a gladiator, I’m already decidedly unnatural. So are you, I might add. Do you need to get anything else today?” Ladybug smoothly changed the subject, uncomfortable even though she knew Alya was mostly kidding. The woman was a gladiator with a family, after all.

“No, I’m good.” Alya’s eyes widened and she pointed about thirty feet ahead of them. “Aww, would you look at that?”

Ladybug’s heart lifted when she saw her partner kneeling in the street at the edge of the forum between two dirty boys, their cheeks smeared and tunics stained with fresh dust. It appeared the women had just missed a scuffle between the lads. As they approached, Ladybug could hear Adrien giving instructions to the starry-eyed children, their quarrel forgotten as the great Chat Noir spoke seriously.

“Keep the wrist straight - don’t bend it - and drive forward with your shoulder and chest, not just your arm. Now, do you want to know the most important part of throwing a punch?” 

The boys nodded eagerly. 

“The first thing you do, before you ever even make your fist, is decide whether it’s worth it. A well-thrown punch can end a friendship, or even land you in jail. You two are friends, right? Don’t fight your friends. You can spar, but don’t fight. If you make a habit of fighting your friends, you won’t have many left. Back each other up. That’s what partners do, right Ladybug?” Adrien looked up at her, squinting with the sun in his bright green eyes.

Ladybug nodded. The boys looked from one gladiator to the other, mouths agape. They’d have stories to tell when they got back home.

“Now, whatever disagreement you were having, resolve it over lunch. Hey, Tacitus?” Adrien waved at a man with shaggy grey hair and an easy smile, who acknowledged him from his stall. “Two pastries for the young men.”

Tacitus brought forward the treats with a flourish, and Adrien handed him a coin. He rose to join Ladybug and Alya as the boys melted back into the crowd, sweet treats in hand.

“You should write a book on the philosophy of fighting. Techniques and avoidance.” Ladybug commented as the three of them headed back to Ludus Magnus.

“Maybe I will,” replied Adrien mildly. “I see you found something, Alya. Did you convince Ladybug to get anything?” He eyed his partner’s empty hands.

“Oh, she got something alright. Personally, I think it’s better off as a surprise. Do you agree, Ladybug?”

Ladybug pursed her lips and nodded as they passed through the open gate of Ludus Magnus. “I don’t have it yet. I pick it up tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll wait with ‘bated breath.” Adrien bowed with a flourish. “I’m off to the baths to enjoy my rest day. Catch you later.”

“You didn’t give him his present,” Alya whispered as he walked away.

“I forgot. I’ll do it later,” Ladybug replied absently. “I better go check in with Mylene; I think my appointment starts soon. Thanks, Alya.” The two friends embraced, then parted.

 

By coincidence, Ladybug caught up with Mylene in the walkway that stretched the length of the school’s west wall of barracks. She ran to meet the diminutive matron, who carried a tray laden with oils, salves, rags, and thin strips of cloth, among other items.

“ _Salve_ , Mylene, can I take that for you?” Ladybug asked politely as she came up alongside the masseuse. She placed a strong hand under the tray and lifted it out of Mylene’s grip.

“Thank you, Ladybug. Are you ready to get started?”

They stopped at the door of Ladybug’s room, which Mylene opened with her free hands. Ladybug set the heavy tray down on her table, then undressed to her underthings and laid down. The pair had been through this ritual many times on rest days. It never failed to amaze Ladybug how well her own body could restore and heal itself through the power of Mylene’s massage. She privately suspected the woman was magic.

Mylene busied herself with the tray, selecting sweet-smelling oils and lighting incense. She bound her thick hair up over her head with a kerchief to keep it out of the way, and took a deep, even breath, eyes closed. Ladybug knew from experience that Mylene was praying, so she didn’t interrupt, even though she privately thought she didn’t need any favors from Roman gods. When Mylene opened her eyes and smiled, Ladybug relaxed.

“Do you want me to close the shutters so you can take off your mask?” Mylene inquired. Ladybug nodded. 

“That would be great, Mylene.”

The light in the room all but disappeared, so Ladybug reached up and untied her mask, letting it fall to the right side of her bed. Mylene got to work, and for the next hour and a half, Marinette’s muscles were kneaded and smoothed, her shoulder blades pressed and rubbed until knots released tension, her neck and upper back prodded into relaxation. Marinette drifted in and out of consciousness. She knew Mylene would be happy to talk if she initiated the conversation, but she didn’t feel up to it. The _medicus’_ wife seemed to understand.

Later, when Marinette woke from a doze, she was surprised to find Mylene wasn’t in the room anymore. Her shutters and door were still closed. Trustworthy Mylene had left without waking her, without trying to look at her face. Marinette sighed and went back to sleep, intending to nap until dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stolla - a voluminous garment worn over a tunic by a married woman.  
> Palla - similar to a shawl, worn by a married woman.


	4. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladybug and Chat Noir discuss tactics for the upcoming fight. The gladiators get dressed up for a cena libera.

The day before the _Ludi Sullae Victoriae_ was the fourth day of the training tetrad for Ludus Magnus - moderate exercises designed to keep the gladiators sharp. For those competing in the games, it was their last chance to hone and perfect their techniques. The training ground was a solemn place that morning, the scheduled competitors soberly completing their rounds at the _palus_ , the punching bags, the agility routines, and the rocks before sparring with each other.

Adrien worked exclusively with his partner to prepare. The other permissible gladiator teams, like Lila and Alya, did the same. Rome adored Ladybug and Chat Noir, but they loved the Volpinae nearly as much.

“Do you know what we’re up against with the duo from Ludus Gallicus?” Ladybug asked when they took a break to dip water out of a corner fountain.

“Big. Bruisers. Heavily armored. Just like we thought.” Adrien kept his answers brief as he caught his breath and slaked his thirst.

“You don’t know them, do you?”

“Just by name; I’ve never met them. They probably know who I am, though. My name lives in infamy in Gaul. I’m the epitome of a noble son gone bad.” The blond man grinned up at her with an expression that was more grimace.

“Surely they can’t hate you for that; they’re gladiators, too!” Ladybug stood with hands on her hips, her practice net dangling from one hand.

“Yes, they can. I’ve yet to meet one person from back home who was happy to see me when they found out who I am.” 

Adrien straightened and wiped off his mouth. 

“Let’s get back in there and finish up. I’m hungry.”

After training was _prandium_ , a light meal in anticipation of the long, heavy _cena libera_ that evening. Adrien still ate as much as he could and took more for Plagg, his little black cat. The creature was a virtuoso at stealing food and not getting caught, but Adrien still took it upon himself to provide at least one meal a day. Pushing away from the table, he stood with both hands full of cheese.

“Are you going to keep that stinkfest in your room, Adrien?” Alya raised both eyebrows and stared pointedly at the rounds clutched in his long fingers.

“Not for long. I get hungry, what can I say?” He shrugged, doing his best to look nonchalant. No one at the _ludus_ was aware he kept a pet and he liked it that way. Plagg wasn’t exactly a normal cat - or even a cat at all, Adrien suspected. He left before she could say anything else.

Adrien shoved the door to his dormitory open with one shoulder, the hinge squeaking protest at his mild assault. He dumped cheese on the rough-hewn wooden table that took up one corner of the room. 

“Plagg! Are you here?” he called out.

A whisper of movement answered him as the small black cat leapt down from the ledge created by the horizontal lintel of the door frame and landed on the table, sniffing daintily at Adrien’s offering. 

“Not bad,” Plagg admitted as he simultaneously seated himself and turned up his nose.

His tail twitched back and forth mischievously. 

“I usually prefer them a bit more aged, but this will do.”

Adrien grinned and scrubbed his fingers behind the ornery cat’s ears. “There’s a _cena_ at a senator’s house tonight. I could sneak you in if you want.”

Plagg’s green eyes glowed with unnatural light and he forgot to jerk his head back from his human’s touch. Then he shook his head, denying temptation. 

“Too many feet in the room. I couldn’t enjoy the food and watch out for my tail at the same time. Just bring me back something nice - and fishy.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Your wish is my command, Master.”

“And don’t you forget it, human.”

Amused, Adrien peeled back the outer layer of one cheese and put it in front of Plagg, then turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” muttered the cat, mouth full.

“Off to get prettied up for the fancy dinner party. I’ll see you later.”

“Whatever,” the cat’s response was nearly unintelligible as his face dipped deeper into his feast.

Adrien chuckled and pulled his door shut behind him. The men’s baths were located in the northwest corner of the _ludus_ , so he made the short trek and entered, his attitude fully relaxing as warm, humid air wafted past his face. The baths were fed by a warm spring nearby and were the pride of Ludus Magnus - better than the size of the rooms or the quality of the food. They hadn’t had baths like this back home, not even in a governor’s household.

His thoughts slipped uneasily toward his family, but he pushed them away. He’d sent his mother a letter last month and was sure a missive from her was on its way. Even though she was a Gaul, she never missed the opportunity to send him something for _Saturnalia_ in December. He relished her long, meandering letters even more than her gifts.

Adrien quickly disrobed as a silent servant came near to assist him. Before the man could help with his belt or sandals or anything else, Adrien plunked a pile of dirty clothes into the man’s outstretched arms with a muttered thanks and progressed further into the private space. The warmth of the spring that fed the bathing pool kept the outer chill at bay. Adrien began to sweat in the humidity, even though his training had been over for an hour.

He smiled when he heard Nino’s voice echo off the stone walls, and sure enough, Nino and Kim, the _retiarius_ trainer, were already in the bathing pool when he arrived. They laughed as they leaned against the smooth edge.

Nino looked up at Adrien’s approach and inclined his chin. “Hey brother, what’s up?”

“Have to get ready for this _cena_ ,” Adrien sank into the pool to begin his afternoon ablutions.

“Ugh, what a chore, right?” Nino smirked to show his sarcasm and Kim grinned next to him.

“And I’m already so pretty,” Adrien agreed, batting his eyelashes. 

The other two barked laughter again as Adrien plunged under the water and came up, shaking his head. He turned to find a servant with a tray of grooming apparatuses and flapped his hand at the man. 

“Just leave it here; I’ll do it.” 

The young man, evidently a new employee, hesitated a moment before setting the tray down at the edge of the pool. 

“And grab me a mirror,” Adrien added as an afterthought to the man’s back as he walked away.

“They’re here specifically to clean you up, you know,” Nino jerked a thumb in the direction the servant had gone.

“I prefer to do it myself,” Adrien shrugged. 

The servant returned with a piece of flat, hammered bronze in one hand. Adrien took the polished metal rectangle, rubbed off accumulated fog, and selected a copper razor with a metal handle shaped like a horse’s head. He slathered fragrant oil from a ceramic vessel over his cheeks and chin and proceeded to scrape away several days’ grown of blond whiskers.

“Kim was telling me your partner’s in tip-top shape for the _Ludi_ tomorrow. I think he might have used the term _protege_ , even. As in, he’s been looking for one.”

“She’d be happy to hear that,” Adrien replied, jutting out his prominent chin and carefully scraping the planes smooth. “The arena’s all she cares about. She’s got a high regard for you as a _doctor_ , Kim. You should talk to her about it.”

“I will. I’ll wait until after the games, though. You know, just in case.”

Kim’s casual reference to the specter of death that had hovered over the scheduled gladiators struck Adrien for a moment. He didn’t know why; they all knew their lives were forfeit unless they could save themselves by luck or skill. He shook off a faint, nostalgic memory of freedom, conjuring up one of his stage grins instead.

“That’s probably smart,” he agreed. 

Adrien rinsed the razor in the pool and set it aside, then ducked back under the water to wipe excess oil off with his hands. Next he set about his arms, chest, neck, and back with the fragrant oil, to loosen any ingrained dirt the water hadn’t rinsed away. He selected a curved strigil from the tray and scraped away the oil, flicking the waste toward the drain trench that swept away the overflow of the bathing pool. 

Once finished, all that was left was his nails. He pared them down with a small knife and rubbed away the sharp edges with a pumice stone.

“How does a rich boy like you learn to do all that for yourself, anyway?” Nino asked, watching as Adrien primly ground away one last rough spot on his thumbnail.

“We were country, too. Not a lot of society up in Aquitania - and most of the servants are busy with the important sons. You learn to take care of yourself.”

“Here we go,” rejoined Nino, rolling his eyes. “Somebody wasn’t hugged enough as a child.”

“Whatever, dude.” Adrien shut his mouth, though. His bitter remembrances of his father and his home weren’t what concerned him now. Rome was an altogether different kind of society.

 

Ladybug's brief stop at the weaver's stall in the forum was rewarded with the promised scarf - now dyed with a regular pattern of black spots. She hurried to the double-size apartment Alya and Nino shared and knocked on the door.

"Did you get it?" Alya asked.

She exited the apartment and joined Ladybug on the walkway. With a flourish, Ladybug whipped the scarf out and shook it loose until its full length fluttered wide for them to see. "Wo-o-o-ow," Alya breathed. "That is so you."

"I know!! I can't wait to wear it!" Ladybug enthused. She refolded the precious fabric and held it close to her chest.

They took quick steps across chilly stones to the women's baths, where Mylene was directing servants to prepare competing gladiators for the _cena_. She and Alya walked up to Mylene's desk, where she stood marshaling female servants and an inventory of supplies.

" _Salve_ , you two," Mylene greeted pleasantly. "Here, take Rose and Juleka with you. They're really good with hair, since you both have a lot. And Alya, Juleka’s fantastic at makeup. Just put your trust in her - you won't be disappointed."

Two smiling women in plain tunics approached. They led Alya and Ladybug into a side alcove that was a little chilly, due to open windows, but kept warm with a fire burning in the stone pit set into one wall. Bright afternoon light streamed in, making visibility good for the delicate work the women would perform. 

Rose worked magic over Ladybug, stunning the young gladiator when she held up a mirror at the end of their time together. Ladybug’s hair was loosely piled atop her head, decorative braids pinned around it to form a silky crown. Rose had somehow managed to set curls in Ladybug's pin-straight hair. She'd used a liquid mixture of her own recipe and heated a small, cylindrical piece of iron at the edge of the fire, then lifted it carefully with a folded cloth at one end. She had wrapped sections of Ladybug's hair around it, reassuring the young gladiator that she used this method on her own hair all the time and never burned it.

"The secret," Rose confided, "is where I set the iron. It's close to the fire, but not too close. Truth be told, I did burn my hair the first time, but that was years ago and I kept trying until I got just the right amount of heat. It works for smoothing clothes, too!"

Ladybug had been skeptical, but now she had lovely curls framing her face and streaming down her back. This kind of work usually took rags and tying her hair overnight, and the curls fell out by the time evening came around. Rose's method proved to be lasting. Whatever was in the hair oil concoction had set these curls in stone for the evening.

Alya's natural beauty hadn't needed much work. Her warm eyes were now framed in a lovely outline of coal, delicately smudged at the edges to make them appear deeply set and very large. Her hair had been tamed slightly with a couple of decorative braids, but Juleka had clucked her tongue when combing through it.

"These curls! We'll put them on full display. You just need a little shine, that's all."

Ladybug thought the effect was magnificent, especially in the new orange _stolla_ Alya now wore.

She glanced down and fondly fingered her new scarf. It was draped delicately over her whitest tunic, positioned just so, according to Rose's Master Plan for Ladybug.

"It'll show off your long, pretty neck this way," the woman said, looping it around her shoulders and tucking it against an outer strophium Ladybug wore over her full-length tunic. She smiled to herself. She felt just lovely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doctor - a coach or trainer


	5. Rubbing Elbows With the Romans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gladiators attend the cena libera. Ladybug meets the Emperor's son. Adrien gives some good advice.

Alya and Ladybug made their way leisurely toward the main entrance of the _ludus_ , chatting and enjoying the chill of the evening air after the muggy warmth of the baths. Several other gladiators were headed in the same direction, singly or in groups, preparing to leave for the evening festivities.

Suddenly, Alya stopped short and gripped Ladybug's arm. Ladybug stared at her, but then followed Alya's gaze to the opposite end of the walkway, where another pair was approaching. Her eyes fell upon Adrien, who looked like he'd been sucker punched, and Nino, who had a warm blush heating up his cheeks as he took in the sight of his wife. 

Ladybug looked at her partner, concerned. Was he in pain? She walked quickly to the men, Alya following in her footsteps. As she came closer, she checked him over in the automatic habit she'd developed since they had started fighting together. Her mind ran through its litany of observations, although she knew it was silly. No visible blood, no visible injury, nothing out of place. He just looked so pale. Adrien cleared his throat as they came near and rubbed the back of his neck, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out. 

"Good evening, ladies," Nino greeted them, reaching out to encircle his wife and draw her close. "You smell great," he complimented. 

Alya giggled and smacked him lightly on one muscled arm. "Hours of work to put me in this get-up and all you care about is how I smell. This man is part canine, I swear.” 

The color returned to Adrien’s cheeks as he switched his gaze from his partner to the couple. “Aren’t we all?” he joked, drawing a laugh from the group. 

Ladybug cast one more glance over Adrien, but whatever had affected him so strongly appeared to have passed. They walked under the broad, curving arch of the school’s front entrance. The noise of shoe leather slapping the cobblestones echoed around them in the long, wide archway that led to the streets of Rome. It was lit with torches to keep the growing shadows at bay. Dropping behind Alya and Nino, Adrien touched Ladybug’s elbow, not quite taking her arm as he drew even with her. He leaned his head down to her ear. 

“It’s a good thing you left the mask on this evening, Marinette,” he whispered. “Otherwise you’d have the men of Rome lining up to serenade you. Have you ever heard me sing?" 

Ladybug felt her insides heat up even as she arched a brow and fixed him with an icy stare. She hid a slight shiver at the sound of her actual name. She couldn’t regret telling it to Adrien; it felt unaccountably good to hear someone speak it after all this time. 

“Are you flirting with me, Kitty Cat?” she murmured, pitching her voice low for his ears only. 

“That depends on whether you feel a murderous rage coming on, Partner,” he replied. 

She reached out to swipe playfully at him, but he danced away with a light step. 

They came out of the school’s gate into open air. Several _carpenta_ , large, four-wheeled coaches, were lined up along the street for the gladiators of Ludus Magnus. Senator Afer definitely knew how to treat his guests, even if they were barely a step above slaves. 

The _carpentum_ they boarded was intricately carved and painted with dancing nymphs engaged in some kind of religious rite. The pair of horses hitched to the coach appeared healthy and well-bred. The four friends settled in for a ride across the city, their _carpentum_ joining a long caravan rolling away from Ludus Magnus.

"Oh, hey, I almost forgot," Ladybug said. "I got you a present the other day." 

She pulled loose the two leather cat ears and held them out to Adrien with a flourish. Alya clapped her hands and melted into girlish giggles as Adrien took them. He held them one way, then the other, trying to suss out what they could possibly be. 

"They'll complete your look, Chat Noir," Ladybug hinted. "Here, I'll put them on." 

Taking one, she reached up and captured a golden lock, deftly pinning it back and straightening the triangle until it stood up stiffly against Adrien's head. She quickly added the other one. Nino burst into loud laughter when Adrien turned and faced him head on. Adrien felt a blush grace his cheeks. He reached up and ripped the two kiddie hair pins free. 

"Thanks a lot, Ladybug," he grumbled. "I guess I need a haircut." 

"You can't cut your hair; your fan base will implode," Ladybug grinned, crossing her arms and leaning against her side of the carriage. 

"True enough," he relented, his sense of humor reasserting itself just as the carriage came to a halt. 

"We're here," Nino noted, glancing out the window.

The group clattered down and were treated to the sight of Senator Afer's opulent town home. No doubt he had lands and a country house as well, but his home in Rome was definitely built to impress. Other _carpenta_ up and down the road disgorged handsomely dressed passengers - both elite noblemen and women of the Empire and gussied up gladiators who couldn't quite shake the aura of danger they carried with them. 

Ladybug swept confidently out of the carriage with the same forthright step she took into the arena and allowed Adrien to hand her down. This time he did take her arm. They weathered the crush of people who shouted and waved to each other. The Senator's ornate _ostium_ stood open and a well-dressed servant was checking names and faces as guests stepped up from the street. Adrien queued them up behind a nobleman and his wife. They waited patiently to be admitted. 

Adrien looked at the thick stone of the street-side wall of the house. It was recently veneered with newly quarried travertine, in the same style as the Flavian Amphitheatre. The senator was clearly a fan of the arena. He had four shop fronts bracketing the _ostium_ ; Adrien had no doubt the merchants were upscale importers. 

The servant waved them in and they passed through the _vestibulum_ into a warmly lit _atrium_ , ringed with braziers that burned brightly and warded off the evening chill. The center of the space boasted a working marble fountain, carved in the image of Daphne as she transformed into a tree to escape Apollo’s advances. Cobblestones gave way to smooth clay tiles that muffled the steps of the guests to a whisper. The entire space was given over to sculptural displays, many of them erotic, with small groupings of benches and shrubbery around each work. Except for the broad, open area around the central _impluvium_ , the _atrium_ intimated a sense of private seclusion for any person that wished it.

Already, laughter and furtive snickering could be heard from several of these little makeshift alcoves, where servants passed with trays of wine for the guests. Ladybug narrowed her eyes and glanced up at her partner. By mutual assent, they crossed to the center fountain and sat on the broad lip of the _impluvium_ , in full view of the entire party.

A servant leaned in politely with a tray and Adrien and Ladybug took cups of wine for themselves. 

"Am I wrong, or is this the biggest _cena_ we’ve ever been to?” Ladybug asked, taking a sip. 

Adrien lifted his eyes to the fountain. “You’re not wrong. I’d guess this party is at least five times bigger than the ones we’ve attended since we started fighting together.” He dropped his gaze to her. "So what's the game plan, Partner?"

She let go of his arm and folded her hands primly in her lap, glancing up and around at their opulent surroundings. "Well, that depends. If you're trying to disappear into the bushes, it won't be with me."

Adrien rolled his eyes, pretending to be offended. "I already know that."

A gong sounded, announcing the arrival of their host. The guests rose and lined up to greet Senator Afer and his wife, who stood waiting in the _tablinum_ , a room just behind the _atrium_.

The Senator's smile was polite, but his wife's eyes lit up when Ladybug and Adrien at last came to the front of the queue. She clasped their hands enthusiastically, her grip surprisingly strong for an older matron. 

"Oh, my dears, your work in the Games this last summer was dazzling to watch! I'm so delighted you could join us tonight!" 

The pair, surprised, returned her smiles and compliments as they passed through to the _cena libera_ buffet in the _triclinium_. They separated after getting plates of food, knowing that part of their job was to mingle and chat with the nobility of Rome. 

The evening became a swirl of faces and quickly-forgotten conversations for Ladybug. Almost everyone in the room wanted a bit of her time, although she was quickly dismissed once their curiosity was satisfied and the conversations turned to more serious matters. Sighing, she took a seat back at the edge of the _impluvium_ and looked up at Daphne, fighting her own wish to turn into a tree and be left alone.

"Odd choice for a fountain, don't you think?"

Ladybug paused in her inventory of the columns surrounding the _atrium_ , startled. “What?”

The voice had almost fooled her into thinking Adrien had found her, but the man who stood over her was none other than Felix, Emperor Hawkmoth's son. Ladybug quickly put her plate down and bowed, but Felix waved away the formality.

"I didn't know you were attending tonight, your Highness," she ventured, retaking her seat as he sat down a comfortable distance from her. 

"I'm the family representative," he sighed. "Father had other engagements."

"I hardly ever see you in the Emperor's box. Do you enjoy the gladiator matches?" Ladybug asked.

She’d only ever viewed Felix from a distance, and never spoken with him. He was just a bit taller than Adrien, and paler, but handsome in the way unshakeable confidence gave a man. His faded grey-blue eyes softened an otherwise dour visage.

"Oh, I tend to avoid the entertainments favored by the masses," Felix sniffed airily.

His eyebrow lifted appreciatively as Alya crossed the _atrium_ , deep in conversation with a woman Ladybug hadn't seen before.

"Perhaps I should reconsider. I didn't know the caliber of women populating the gladiator ranks these days."

"She's married," replied Ladybug.

"Never been a problem before," Felix shot back with a lurid grin.

Ladybug resented the implication his words cast on her friend. Felix turned his roving eyes on her. She stifled an urge to shudder. Suddenly the distance between them didn't seem to be enough.

"How about you?" he asked. "What does it take to get a peek under Ladybug's - _ahem_ \- mask?"

Ladybug pasted on her most ingratiating smile. "Hadn't you heard? I'm horribly scarred and have a third eye. That's why I'm still single. Please excuse me."

She stood and sailed away from him, her outer grace masking her private disgust. She would probably come to regret that response, but she couldn't bring herself to feel bad about it. She took a wrong turn out of the _atrium_ and ended up near the tight, smoky _culina_ which had only one window to allow heat and smoke to escape the cooking fires. Realizing her mistake when she heard the voices of servants calling out orders as they banged pots and pans, she turned.

A quiet sob and the low, familiar murmur of a man's voice arrested her motion. Two figures were silhouetted in the _posticum_ , a narrow hallway leading to the servant's exit. She recognized Adrien's profile as he stood with one hand on another man's shoulder, bent toward him and speaking quietly into his ear. Ladybug silently eased her way back around the corner, but couldn't help her curiosity. She leaned her head against the wall, tilting her ear toward their whispered conversation.

"-and it's impossible. Impossible. I'll never get out alive. I have a better chance of turning into - into a-a wagon wheel." The man Ladybug didn't recognize hiccupped and she realized he was very, very drunk.

"You can't think like that. If you go in expecting to fail, you will. You have to have hope. _Believe_ you can win the fight. That's the first step. And you can! I've seen you in the yard. You'll do fine." Adrien's tones were soothing, designed to convince the other man.

Ladybug suddenly understood that he was a _tirones_. He'd be fighting his first gladiator match the next day. It became clear that the _tiro_ assumed his first fight would also be his last. He was treating the _cena_ like a last meal, so deep in his cups that he'd probably be useless on the morrow. 

Adrien cheered the _tiro_ up with his natural charm, teasing him about the huge plate of food he'd heaped for himself and asking him how much wine he'd had. Before long, the stricken young man was chuckling. Ladybug heard Adrien give him a solid smack on the shoulder as the pair walked back out of the _posticum_. She stole away on light feet before either man could see her.

As the evening drew to a close, guests in various stages of inebriation were rounded up and herded toward the front of the house. Ladybug had assiduously avoided Felix for the rest of the night, barring one time when he caught her eye across a room with a jaunty wink. She managed to catch up with Alya and Nino, but Adrien was nowhere to be found. She hoped he hadn't been tempted by the wine. She needed him sharp tomorrow, ready to fight.

She helped Nino get Alya to bed back at the _ludus_ , then retreated to her own quarters, exhausted by the night's revelry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ostium - the entryway to a Roman home. To the left and right of a wealthy home, shops for merchants would face the street and living quarters for the household would be situated over the shops. This kept the home and its occupants somewhat protected from break-ins, since only the ostium allowed access to the house from the main street.  
> Impluvium - a pool that accepted rainwater flowing in from the open roof at the center of the atrium.  
> Triclinium - the dining room in a Roman house.


	6. The Games Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lila is disqualified from the Games. The gladiators suit up and go to the arena.

The day of the Games revealed Adrien to be an even earlier riser than his partner. He sat alone in the cafeteria, eating his allotment of bread and thinking. This was the third set of games he and Ladyb- that is, _Marinette_ had partnered for. He felt like they’d been fighting together his whole life. A thrill ran through him at having a name and a face to go with the beautiful woman whose body and instincts at times felt like an extension of his own. Adrien stretched upward, remembering how Ladybug clung to his arm when they waited in line outside Senator Afer’s house.

He’d kept a surreptitious eye on her at the _cena_. Ladybug didn’t mind talking with people who openly admired her at the same time they thought her less than human. She never tolerated men making casual passes at her, though. No one had been decked by her tiny, furious fist, so he assumed the gentlemen of Rome had kept their distance.

His brow furrowed as he stared down into his bread, daydreaming. To his knowledge, she’d never responded to any kind of romantic invitation, actually. He’d overheard many a man - and women, too - talk about her attributes in far too familiar terms, but she appeared to be either oblivious or celibate. Maybe she was a secret devotee of Minerva or Diana. That didn’t track with her disdain for the Romans in general, though.

Not for the first time, Adrien wondered where Marinette was from. He had many unanswered questions about her. The crowds of the arena didn’t care as long as the anonymous Ladybug won her fights in the spectacular manner they were accustomed to. If he were less honorable, he would ask around about her name. He’d never heard it before she uttered it.

“Marinette,” he whispered to himself, feeling the way the word moved through his mouth. To him, it was foreign, exotic.

“Hey, good morning. How was your sleep?”

Adrien started at the familiar hand that touched his shoulder. He shook off his early morning stupor and smiled up at Ladybug, clad in her mask even at this early hour.

“Good. And you? Not too much wine, I hope?”

Ladybug smiled for the joke that it was. Adrien knew she never imbibed heavily before a fight day. She set her food down next to him and took a seat on the bench. 

“I’m feeling ready to get this game day started. You know me, I like a nice organized schedule.”

Adrien chuckled. “Our whole lives are scheduled, Ladybug! Even our rest days have required appointments. Don’t you ever miss the opportunity to pick what you want to do and when you want to do it?”

Ladybug’s pink lips pursed in a frown. “Honestly, I don’t remember what that feels like. I’ve been in the arena since I was fifteen, you know. And before that… um, before that I was also not free.”

Adrien’s ears perked to the words that weren’t said, but he didn’t press for more.

“Unca! Unca! Unca!” a shrill shriek pierced the quiet air of the cafeteria. The pair looked up to see Remus toddling their way, belly pressed outward and tiny feet a whirl of motion. Alya followed behind, her hair piled in a messy bun and smudges of coal still tracing her cheekbones where it had streaked down from her eyes.

“Little Man!” Adrien caught the boy before he could barrel into their table edge and knock himself senseless. “Time for breakfast, huh?”

Remus smiled, revealing two full rows of charming, pearly baby teeth. He spied Adrien’s half-finished loaf of bread and grabbed at it with one chubby fist. Chuckling, Adrien scooped Remus up on his lap as Ladybug ripped a bite free and pressed it into his hand.

“You guys look as fresh as spring daisies,” Alya groaned, dropping heavily onto the bench next to them and propping up her head with her hands. “How do you do that?”

Ladybug reached around Adrien’s back and patted her best friend sympathetically. “Too much wine?”

“Too much of everything,” Alya muttered. “It seemed like small portions at the time, but added together… let’s just say I didn’t sleep well afterward. And now he’s up at this ungodly hour.” She pointed at Remus with one pinky finger, pressing her face into the remaining digits.

“You want to know my secret?” Adrien asked.

Alya peeked at him with one eye.

“I tip one of the servants and ask him to water down my wine. People think I’m carousing with them, but I’m sober as a vestal virgin.”

Alya nodded. “I have to remember that for next time.” 

She straightened as Ladybug pushed water and bread toward her. Bit by bit, she revived while the other two kept Remus busy. Within the hour, the cafeteria was full - on game days, most of the inhabitants of Ludus Magnus had early hour obligations to attend to. 

The entire community looked up as one as a gong sounded, indicating the arrival of dawn and the official start of the work day. Nathalie stood on a bench above a coterie of assistants, several holding wax tablets upon which voluminous notations had been marked. Nathalie held one in her own hand as she cleared her throat.

“As you know, the Games begin at the third hour. Emperor Hawkmoth has graciously waived your ticket price if you care to attend. Animal hunting and combat by the _venatores_ and _bestiarii_ from Ludus Matutinus will start the proceedings. Then Lionus and Praxus will join the group executing criminals.”

Lionus and Praxus, two veteran gladiators who started their professional lives as thugs, grinned at each other and cracked their knuckles.

“There will be a mid-day break with amusements. After that, several of our first-time _tirones_ and lower-ranked _veteres_ will run their matches, culminating in a final exhibition match between our _primus palus_ team and that of Ludus Gallicus. Gladiators, take care of yourselves out there.” Nathalie’s solemn expression took in her top fighting team in particular.

Adrien knew the admonition was more out of concern for the money and time lost if either of them were to become injured. Nathalie stepped down, handed one wax tablet to an assistant, and took up another. She stalked quietly to their table.

“Uh, oh,” Adrien muttered under his breath. “What did we do?”

The stern woman stopped and stood squarely in front of Alya. 

“I’m reassigning Galena to partner with you today,” she told Alya curtly.

Alya’s eyes widened and she sat up, all traces of her over-wined stupor vanishing. “What? You can’t do that! Lila and I have been fighting together since we were children!”

“Then you know her temperament even better than I do. She skipped the _cena libera_ last night and insulted your host. As _secundus palus_ she is allowed many freedoms, even a choice of living arrangements, but she does have a contract and she must fulfill it.”

Nathalie motioned to a strong woman whose thick musculature outstripped many of the men in the room. The woman stepped forward, her expression hard.

“I’ve given Galena the cutesy accoutrement you, your sister, and the crowds appear to prefer - the fox ear helmet and the pelt. She’s highly competent and I would take it as a favor-” Nathalie showed her teeth slightly, indicating that this was no favor, but a command- “if you would work with her in preparation this morning and show her the respect her station deserves.”

Nathalie turned on her heel and walked through a parted sea of servants who swirled in her wake, running behind with their stylii pressed to their tablets. Adrien eyed her critically. The jab about station and respect had been unnecessary; they all were completely aware of their low status.

Alya sighed and motioned at Galena with one hand. “Well, sit down.” 

The woman looked surprised at the courtesy, but did as she was told. Alya sat up straight and looked her new partner over. 

“We haven’t had much opportunity to speak before, Galena. I’m Alya. Welcome.”

Galena was clearly taken aback by the other woman’s serenity over their awkward situation. Her tight jaw loosened and the set of her shoulders relaxed. She became gentler in aspect than Adrien would have imagined possible, the stage-brute having been put aside like a costume. She placed her elbows on the table and leaned toward Alya, her eyes bright.

“I’m sorry about the circumstances, but I won’t lie - it’s pretty exciting to fight with you as _secundus palus_ , even if it is only to punish your sister.”

The pair conversed about their scheduled opponents and tactics. Ladybug stood, excusing herself as she cleared her dishes. 

“I’ve got to get ready; I’ll see you at the _pompa_ ," she said.

Alya and Galena waved her off, but Adrien stood and accompanied her out of the room. 

“What’s the story with Lila?” he asked, easily matching her quick steps.

Ladybug rolled her eyes. "Gallio just got back into town. He sent word yesterday." 

"Who's this Gallio?" Adrien pressed when Ladybug seemed reluctant to say more. 

"Her husband," she replied, which set Adrien coughing suddenly. 

He stopped in his tracks, doing his best to recover. Sighing, Ladybug tried to walk on, but he grabbed her wrist before she could step away.

“What husband?” he asked, feeling colder than the weather could account for. 

Ladybug scrunched her lips together, then took pity on him and explained. "Her ex-husband, truly. A soldier. They just finished the campaign season, so he's back. The two of them have a tradition. They have a big fight before he leaves in the spring and get divorced. Then when he's back for the winter, they make up and remarry. She skipped the _cena_ to move back in with him." 

"Why didn't she mention... I mean, she didn't tell me..." Adrien floundered in confusion. 

Ladybug shrugged. "She was a free woman all summer. She made her choices." 

She yanked her arm free and walked on, leaving Adrien to his thoughts.

Ladybug hurried over to the women's baths where Mylene was already waiting.

"Good morning, Ladybug," the _medicus_ greeted her, arms outstretched. Mylene pulled her into a warm hug, which surprised Ladybug. 

"I know it's just an exhibition match, but I always feel so worried for you and your friends. The wrong move could still kill you."

Ladybug patted Mylene's arm and looked down into her eyes. "Don't worry about me, Mylene. I bet I get back here without a scrape."

Mylene brushed her hand at moisture in the corner of one eye, then straightened. "I have everything you need right here," she said briskly, picking up a tray from her desk. "Rose is here to help you again."

The young slave woman smiled as Mylene handed her the tray and a diagram on papyrus. Mylene shooed the pair off to the same room Rose had used to help Ladybug prepare for the _cena libera_. it was already warm with a crackling fire and the women seated themselves on two wooden stools as Rose deposited the tray on a small table between them.

"I'm a little nervous I'll screw up your spots," Rose confided, peering at the diagram.

Ladybug tipped the edge of the papyrus into view and glanced down at the simplistic outline of a female body, front and back, with her signature pattern of ladybug spots overlaid on it.

"Don't be. I'll help you. When I started out, this wasn't such a sophisticated process - I used to grab a piece of charcoal and draw them on myself. They'd be smeared all over the place two minutes into my bouts!" 

She picked up a small vial of black liquid Mylene had provided. "Wow, she's concocted something new this time, hasn't she?"

Rose nodded, excited. "It's a mixture of the charcoal with something semi-permanent. It won't run at all.” Rose giggled. "She tested it on me. Want to see?"

Ladybug looked down curiously as the young woman tugged up the long sleeve of her tunic and revealed her own name written in Latin on her forearm. Ladybug ran her fingers over the black tattoo.

"You're sure that's not permanent?" she checked her fingers for residue, but none had come off of Rose's skin.

"It's already faded to half the tone it was last week. I'm positive successive baths are removing it."

Ladybug shrugged. "Honestly, I've considered permanent tattoos. So this is fine either way. Are you ready?"

Rose nodded. She removed the stopper from the glass vial and dipped a brush in, careful to hold a rag beneath it to keep any drops from staining their clothing. Ladybug removed her tunic. She was left in her strophium and a loincloth. She turned her back to the fire with a shiver. She'd be clad in next to nothing when her match started in the evening, but the sunlight and bloodshed would have warmed the sands of the arena by then. Right now, it was just a cold November morning.

The rigid bristles of the brush alternately poked and tickled Ladybug's skin as Rose applied precise circles. Ladybug felt the liquid cool on her skin. Soon her whole body was covered in near-perfect ladybug spots, even on the top of each foot. Ladybug admired her arms and legs in front of the fire.

"For someone who hasn't done this before, it’s a masterful job!" she complimented.

Rose blushed as she stood. "Thank you, Ladybug. I hope your match goes well today."

They exited the little room, Ladybug with her clothes folded over one dry arm, to see what Mylene wanted them to do next.

Mylene checked the spots over with a satisfied nod. "They're dry. You can go wash and get the excess dye off. They'll stay put. This is definitely my best recipe yet."

Ladybug walked through a narrow tiled hallway where she could hear echoing conversations and giggles of several other women. As strange as it sounded, many of the gladiator women preferred to bathe before their bouts, even though they all knew they would be dirty, bloody, and injured by the time they came back to the _ludus_ \- if they came back at all. Ladybug also preferred to look her best for the _pompa_. It was good advertising, and good advertising meant good bets.

Ladybug always placed bets on herself prior to a fight - usually through an intermediary. It made good sense, if your plan was to buy out your contract and your freedom. Prize money alone wouldn't do it.

Ladybug undressed completely and slipped into the bath. She touched her hair, pinned into two buns at her neck, to be sure it was secure. The warm water flowed over her hips, then stomach, then shoulders as she sank down, bending her knees. True to her word, Mylene's dye didn't run. Ladybug decided against testing it with oil and a strigil until after the games.

She washed her face and rubbed her arms, legs and torso vigorously. When she turned, she saw Rose had already thoughtfully placed a towel at the edge of the pool. She stepped out, dripping, and wrapped the towel around herself with a shiver. She dried off and dressed as quickly as she could. The _pompa_ would start within the hour, and Ladybug still needed to see Tikki.

Ladybug stopped by the cafeteria to grab something tasty, then entered her dormitory and closed the door securely. She had wrapped Tikki’s statue in the silk scarf last night when undressing, thinking the goddess might enjoy the fine material. Tikki lounged in its soft folds, dozing, but she woke when Ladybug approached.

“Mistress Tikki, protector of my people, I make this offering in gratitude for your patronage,” Ladybug said earnestly as she laid out the food she’d brought. “Please grant me your favor and protection that I may bring honor upon myself, my ancestors, and you.”

The food disappeared quickly.

“Place your hand upon my effigy,” Tikki instructed. Her figurine glowed with an unearthly light.

Ladybug obeyed instantly. A familiar burning pain shot through her palm as the glow of the statue infused her hand. It traveled up her arm and spread throughout her extremities. By the time the sensation reached her toes, it was only a pleasant tingle.

Ladybug sighed in gratitude and rubbed her hand. Her heart beat powerfully in her chest. She felt like she could leap to the roof of the _ludus_ from the center of the yard.

“Thank you, Tikki,” she said aloud. She looked at her scarf and thought a moment, then picked it up and folded it neatly under her arm. Satisfied, she went to the armory to get suited up.

 

The center oval of Ludus Magnus was overfilled with a long line of gladiators and entertainers that fidgeted in place as they waited to start the _pompa_. Charioteers calmed their horses, _paegniarii_ double-checked their stock of gags and fake weapons, and gladiators adjusted and readjusted heavy helmets and shields.

Ladybug stood near the back of the line, fidgeting with her own minimal armor. When she’d visited the armory to be outfitted with her arm guard and a _galerus_ shield for her shoulder, the _vestarius_ had agreed her beautiful spotted scarf would be just the right touch. With two ribbons hastily sewn on to serve as a tie, it now encircled her neck and the diaphanous fabric floated softly behind her. Ladybug had her wings.

Soft footfalls crunched the gravel near her. Ladybug looked up from adjusting her dagger belt. Her partner approached with his unmistakable smile and she nearly laughed out loud.

Chat Noir took his place next to her, batting his eyes from behind a black leather mask that covered nearly all of his upper face. “What do you think? Is it me?”

“Where did you find that?” she exclaimed, then stopped when she got a look at the top of his head. “Wait - you’re wearing the ears? I got those as a joke!”

“I had the mask made last week. Since we’re a team, I thought a little unity would look good on the field. And I _am_ the Black Cat. I figured why not give the ears a try. I’ll just kill anyone that laughs at me.”

Ladybug took a step back to get a better view. He wore only black, from the fake ears on top of his head to the broad loincloth strapped securely in place with his sturdy black leather belt. His shin greaves were mostly scuffed metal, but they were still black in the creases where they’d once been painted. She’d thought the effect of the ears and mask would be comical, but with the wide leather straps of two black baltei over his chest and swords sheathed at either hip, he was fierce… frightening. Like a panther. She stepped back in line. With a smile, she reached up to rub the velvety stubble covering his jaw with one hand.

“You didn’t shave,” she commented, still smiling.

Chat Noir didn't answer, but his green eyes were bright behind the mask as he caught and held her fingers. Ladybug took her hand back quickly and faced front.

"Can you tell me about the Gallicans again? I know I've observed them before, but it's been a while."

Chat Noir's face dropped into a serious expression as he reported what he knew. "Placus and Vel. They're both condemned to the _ludus_ for their barbaric crimes. _Secutores_ , as usual. Vel's the one with a gutted _retiarius_ illustration etched on his helmet."

"Charming," Ladybug replied, motioning him to continue.

"They had near perfect records of wins and kills before they were combined, but they don't work very well together. I watched them over in Ludus Gallicus a couple of times. They're both hot-headed and stubborn; they get mad at each other way too easily to partner well. Both want to be dominant and neither listen.

"Vel’s signature move is ramming you with his shield to knock you off balance, then going in for the kill. He's big and fast, so it actually works pretty well for him - especially if he can get an opening at the beginning of a match. Placus is more likely to rest his shield on his greave and inch forward, blocking attacks and waiting for his opponent to tire."

"So it sounds like they have enough strength and speed that we won't be able to gang up on one and ignore the other," Ladybug speculated, earning a nod from Chat Noir.

"True, but they also won't be coordinating their attacks like we do. It should help make their moves easier to predict. Besides, their _doctor_ worked at Ludus Magnus until last year. You remember Decius Pinarius?"

Ladybug made a face. "That guy? Didn't Nathalie sack him for trying to schedule fights under the table so he could make extra money?"

Chat Noir nodded. "Yep. He's been teaching them all the same things he taught our _secutores_. We shouldn't see any surprises tonight."

Another gong sounded and the raucous chatter of the fighters and entertainers clogging up the arena died down. Nathalie stood to one side.

"It's time, people," she shouted, her voice carrying easily across the broad space. "Follow the leaders through the front entrance and head up to the Amphitheatre, just like we always do. And smile, dammit! Your public awaits you!" With an impatient wave of her hand, the entire gathering was dismissed.

As the largest imperial gladiator school, the group parading out of Ludus Magnus took a long time to move forward. Other schools sent forth their contributions to the days' games as well, in a carefully coordinated stream of people that stretched endlessly through the streets near the Flavian Amphitheatre.

Spectators and fans lined the sidewalks hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorites. Shouts and cheers swelled as gladiators emerged from the main entrance into the street. Cries of "Ladybug!!" and "Chat Noir!" mingled with other excited shouts. 

"They're here!" 

"Oh, I see them!"

"Ladybug! Ladybug!" Ladybug felt a small tug against her leg. Her hand relaxed its hold on her dagger when she saw a little girl smiling bashfully up at her.

" _Salve_ , Sweetheart. Who are you cheering for today?" Ladybug patted her head as she kept walking and the girl took quick steps to keep up.

"You, of course! Here!" Giggling, the girl thrust a bunch of red flowers into Ladybug's hand and ran off.

Ladybug grinned after her and tucked the bouquet into the ties of her arm guard. She looked up and waved with a big smile. Citizens leaned out of second floor windows to wave back. Everywhere she looked, Ladybug saw flowers tossed, and even coins here and there. A few spectators booed when their least favorite fighters came into view, but went right back to cheering as the parade moved on.

Finally, the Amphitheatre came into view. They filed in through the performer’s gate and walked down a ramp to the underside of the Amphitheatre. Through the mingled cacophony inside, Ladybug could make out a few distinct sounds. Tigers and lions roared hungrily, having been starved for days to make them eager to catch criminals. Exotic animals she couldn't place were calling as well, shortly to be turned loose for the _venatorii_ to hunt amid fake scenery on the sands above.

A low murmur below the din of shouts and cries confused her for a moment, until she passed by a cell inhabited by several still, quiet people. Ladybug was able to make out the signature prayer of Christians. They repeated it over and over, barely seeming to pause for breath as they awaited their fate. Her Greek was only so-so, but she could understand the words "Father" and "heaven" in their litany. Placing them close enough to hear the lions was a bit cruel in Ladybug's opinion, but their troubles would soon conclude in any case.

“Let’s head up to the nosebleed seats for the opening,” Chat Noir suggested.

Ladybug nodded assent. “Are you staying for the whole Games this time?”

Chat Noir’s blond locks swayed as he shook his head back and forth. "No, I have some stuff to take care of before our match."

"Need to place your bets?" she asked sympathetically as they mounted the back staircase that took them to the performer seats.

"Something like that," he agreed.

A _lanista_ from one of the other schools made the speech that opened the day's games. His flowery prose, read from a wax tablet, was barely audible up in the seats reserved for participants. He praised Emperor Hawkmoth, a truly benevolent god who brought prosperity to the empire. He lauded the strength, dignity, and creativity of the gladiators of Rome going to their deaths. His droning words became the sound of a buzzing fly to Ladybug as she drifted away, thinking about the match ahead of them.

Suddenly, laughter broke out nearby, growing until a sizable roar issued from the crowds. The _lanista's_ cheeks wore a burning blush visible across the arena. He sat down abruptly in his front-row seat with his mouth clamped shut.

"What happened? I wasn't listening," hissed Ladybug.

Chat Noir leaned over to answer. "Look at how sweaty he is. His tablet melted and he said "flatulence" instead of "patience" at the end."

"Oh! How terrible!" Ladybug stifled her giggles in a look of mock concern.

With dignified pomp, several gongs sounded and the first animals were released into the amphitheatre. Chat Noir left after a few minutes, leaving Ladybug on her own. If she were completely honest, she wasn't all that interested in beast matches; they were always so clearly rigged, even though she respected the skill it took to hunt an animal.

The Romans had a healthy fear of the natural world, which she approved of. Animals were ultimately a mystery to man, no matter how closely one worked with them. The mastery of the _venatorii_ and _bestiarii_ in combat against them reassured the crowds that humans were still supreme. Ladybug settled back against the marble bench to watch for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Venatores - animal hunters in the gladiatorial games  
> Bestiarii - gladiators that fought animals in combat  
> Tirones - first time gladiators  
> Veteres - veteran gladiators  
> Secundus Palus - second only to the primus palus gladiator(s)  
> Pompa - parade prior to the start of the games  
> Medicus - a medical doctor  
> Paegniarii - entertainers that work the crowds between gladiator matches, similar in function to clowns  
> Balteus - a baldric, a belt that secures a sword sheath to the hip. Some have an added strap over the opposite shoulder  
> Galerus - a metal shoulder guard that flares up to guard the face  
> Vestarius - person who gets the gladiators dressed and armored  
> Secutores - gladiators that were regularly slated against the retiarius - they had smooth helmets to avoid getting netted, large shields to protect against tridents, and swords.


	7. Game, Set, Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien transforms to Chat Noir. Ladybug and Chat Noir fight Placus and Vel in the Colosseum.

Under the amphitheatre, Chat Noir pulled off his mask and ears and borrowed a discarded cloak against the chilly morning as he exited the massive edifice. Most of the crowds from earlier had rushed in to take their seats, so the side street he stepped into was nearly empty. He'd debated taking the underground tunnel that connected Ludus Magnus to the Flavian Amphitheatre. Bright sunlight and fresh air convinced him a stroll along Rome's streets had been the better choice.

Adrien entered the _ludus_ through a side gate and strode quickly to the cafeteria. A few servants, chores completed, were sitting around eating leftovers. He gathered up food for Plagg. Entering his room, he glanced around with keen eyes for his silent friend.

"Plagg? Where are you, Buddy?"

The cat's black head popped out from under Adrien's cot. "Did you bring me something? It better be good. The cheese was good."

"There's some cheese, sure. An egg, too. I'm going to take a nap. Then we have to get down to business."

Plagg sighed dramatically as he leapt onto Adrien's table and sniffed at the pile of food. "Fine, fine. I'll wake you when I'm done eating... and bathing... and maybe after my own nap."

Adrien removed his swords and greaves. He fell backward onto his cot, hands behind his head. With eyes closed, he set his mind adrift, away from the memory of the crash of metal against wood, angry shouts and enthusiastic cheers, bone-shaking impacts that bruised and lacerated. All that would come later. Muscles relaxing, he sank into his bedroll and slept.

 

Adrien woke to a heavy thump on his chest. His eyes popped open to view Plagg crouched on top of him. The little cat's tail twitched back and forth, lashing him.

"About time," Plagg sneered, green irises showing bright against the slits of his pupils. "I ran out of food an hour ago."

Adrien yawned. “It's not noon yet, is it?" 

He sat up, dislodging Plagg. The cat tried to hold on to Adrien's blanket, but tumbled awkwardly away in a ball of fur and legs.

"Hey!" the creature reproached indignantly, struggling to sit up among the woolen folds.

Adrien leaned over to retrieve his weapons and armor. He put on his mask and ears, then the greaves and baltei. He turned and drew both swords, careful not to knock against his furniture in the small room. He held them, tips downward, as though presenting them to his cat.

"It's time, Plagg. Claws out."

The black cat, having quickly recovered his dignity, meowed his annoyance as his appearance altered. Green light blazed out from his body as it changed form, becoming a boiling ball of force. Chat Noir steeled himself. Although he was used to this tiny imp's oddities, he knew the strength of its power as well. The ball slammed fully into him and the swords. He rocked back on his heels, breathing hard from the impact. The swords and the hands attached to them glowed for a fraction of a second, and then all appeared as it had before - without the cat in the room.

Chat Noir resheathed the swords. The borrowed cloak over his shoulders, he headed back to the Amphitheatre.

Laughter was mixed in with the shouts of the crowd when Chat Noir re-entered the Amphitheatre via the tunnel from Ludus Magnus. On his way over, he'd passed slaves carrying out dead animals - or dragging them, in the case of one curious creature with a thick gray skin, deadly looking tusks, and a long, thick rope where its nose should have been. He also saw at least one _venator_ that had been slashed to death and partially eaten. He was sure the successful creature hadn't been granted freedom for its prowess.

He caught a glimpse of the current entertainment through an archway - Lionus and Praxus, among several _executors_ drawn from all the schools, began their duties. The brutish joy on their faces as they chased and murdered _damnati_ made Chat Noir's skin crawl. He adored a good fight, but these were not good fights.

Fortunately, it was all over very soon. To judge from the disappointment on Lionus' face, the men were ready to dispense justice for hours longer. Their vicious barbarism almost made Chat Noir sorry he'd missed seeing the Christians thrown to the lions. There, at least, it was simple hunger, not a complete lack of moral character.

The close of executions marked the start of mid-day. At least half of the crowd thundered through the _vomitoria_ to find something to eat from ready street vendors. Bodies left on the ground were cleared from the arena. Slaves swept and smoothed the sand in preparation for the clownish _paegniarii_. Chat Noir headed up to the participant seats to see if Ladybug was waiting there.

 

Ladybug wasn’t there, so he sat on an open stretch of bench and pulled at his mask and ears until they felt perfectly comfortable. Chat Noir turned away from the arena, just as Ladybug emerged from the arched entrance with a kebab in either hand.

“Fresh off the grill. I knew you’d want some,” she said, handing both sticks to him. Chat Noir felt his stomach growl. 

“Aren’t you going to have one?” he asked, pressing one of the sticks back in her direction.

Ladybug shrugged, reaching out a hand. She took one lump of charred meat and popped it in her mouth. 

“The rest is for you,” she said around the mouthful. 

Chat Noir dug in. Meat was a rarity, due to Nathalie’s strict diet for the gladiators. She looked the other way at cenas and games. Chat Noir always took full advantage. 

The crowd began to swell again toward the middle of the _paegniarii_ show. A hum of anticipation swept over the arena as the time for true man-to-man combat approached. Animal fights and clown shows were all well and good, but the audiences of Rome wanted the life-blood of men in the dust.

As the _tirones_ entered the arena, Chat Noir sat up, interested. The first match was set for a first-time _hoplomachus_ whose knees shook under his armor and a _murmillo_ who lifted his helmet for a quick peek out.

"Hey, that's our guy!" Chat Noir shouted, "the _murmillo_. Io, Tiro!" Several other gladiators seated nearby looked at him oddly. Chat Noir waved his arms at them. "Oh, come on guys, it's his first fight. Show a little familial enthusiasm."

Five or six other spectators from Ludus Magnus shrugged, then stood with Chat and Ladybug. "IO, TIRO!" they boomed, hands cupped around their mouths.

Tiro looked their way and gave a wave of his sword. The group with Chat Noir whooped and clapped as the match began.

The two men circled each other, their feet scratching grooves in the sandy earth. Tiro’s tentative sword thrusts were easily deflected with ringing crashes against the _hoplomachus'_ circular shield. The _hoplomachus_ jabbed competently with his lance, testing weaknesses in Tiro’s defense. Tiro lost confidence and tried to hide behind his large shield, but the hoplomachus dug a toe under it. With a loud grunt, he kicked it up and back into Tiro’s helmet-covered face. The crowd cheered as Tiro staggered. Their roars grew as the _hoplomachus_ stabbed his lance deeply into Tiro’s side. Dark, red blood dripped onto the sand. 

The _hoplomachus_ shoved Tiro’s shield to one side and pressed his advantage. Tiro was nearly done, however, his fear, panic and pain paralyzing him. He dropped to one knee, holding up his shaking sword in defense. The _hoplomachus_ put a foot on Tiro’s chest and wrenched his lance free with a kick that sent the other man sprawling on his back. A theatrical stream of blood followed Tiro down to the ground. The _hoplomachus_ put his short sword to Tiro’s throat and raised his shield to the crowd. The resultant roar shook the arena.

"I think the _hoplomachus_ found his showman side," Ladybug commented.

"Oh, Tiro, what were you thinking? Man, this sucks." Chat Noir felt unaccountably depressed as the manager of the Games, in Emperor Hawkmoth's stead, gave the signal to execute their _murmillo_.

Tiro came unsteadily to his knees and straightened his back, despite his wound that still issued heavy amounts of blood. He removed his helmet and set it gently to one side as the _hoplomachus_ waited.

"I don't think he has long to live, in any case. That first shot was a good one," Ladybug murmured.

The crowd waited, hushed, for the grisly conclusion they desired. The _hoplomachus_ did not disappoint. Tiro lifted his chin and closed his eyes. The _hoplomachus_ dispatched him with one efficient swipe of his sword. As his body fell to the sand, the amphitheatre shook with thunderous cheers.

Ladybug sighed and glanced at Chat Noir. His mouth was pulled down in a tight frown. She patted his shoulder in consolation. “They can’t all make it. Nature of the game.”

“He didn’t even really want to,” Chat Noir replied, remembering their conversation from the night before.

"You can't let it mess with your head. We have our own fight to think about."

At that, Chat nodded and made the internal effort to release his disappointment. "You're right. Hey, he didn't have any family. I'm going to go down for a bit and make sure they bury him properly." He left his spot on the bench at a run to catch up with the body.

Before long, Chat Noir returned to his spot next to Ladybug. They spent the afternoon watching match after match and death after death. As the shadows grew longer, the pair's anticipation of their own match grew.

"Ladybug. Chat Noir."

They turned as an unfamiliar voice called them from the entrance to their section. A middle aged servant with a pinched expression peered up at them. 

"It's time. You need to come down and get ready."

The pair followed the man down into the bowels of the Amphitheatre as he muttered to himself and pressed a stylus into a wax tablet. He stopped short at a small alcove they were both familiar with.

"Finish getting ready here, then stand at the gate."

The alcove contained sturdy wooden benches. A shelf set along one side held baskets of various items. Leather hair thongs, patches for shoe soles, polishing cloths for swords and helmets - anything a gladiator might need at the last minute to buff up appearance or handle a minor repair that could turn into a major problem on the field.

Chat Noir sat down and retied his greaves securely against his shins. Ladybug checked the straps of her _galerus_ , shrugging her shoulder experimentally to test its worth as a shield.

"How are my ears?" Chat Noir asked, as he settled his mask firmly in place.

Ladybug’s smile bloomed across her features. "Hold still, Kitty."

Standing on tiptoe, she reached up to straighten them. Her padded left arm made the motion awkward. She leaned in closer and tried to hook her arm up and around to reach his hair.

Chat Noir stood still when he felt the puff of her breath on his cheek. He swallowed, looking down at her lips, then up at the bricks of the ceiling overhead. His tiny, lethal partner was close enough for him to steal a kiss... not that he'd ever, ever do that. No, the thought would never cross his mind. He didn't ever think about how surprise would widen her pretty blue eyes. And of course it never occurred to him how her lips always looked soft, even in the chilly winter air.

He couldn't resist a glance at the tiny freckles gracing the bridge of her nose as she leaned back to study her handiwork. He had to get her back out of that mask sometime soon. At the very least, to investigate whether there were more freckles.

Ladybug nodded with one hand on her hip, satisfied. "Those will hold come Hades or high water."

"Hades is more likely at this stage; they didn't flood the arena tonight." 

It was a lame joke, but it was all he could supply until his brain started working again. He shook his head to clear the afterimage of Ladybug's sweet features from his mind’s eye.

"Are you two ready yet?" The peevish servant was back, motioning to them with impatient sweeps of his arms.

They allowed him to guide them along in good humor. In the shadows of the gate, they watched the Volpinae finish their match. The two women worked well together, especially for having only been partnered earlier that day.

Galena couldn't match Lila for speed, but she made up for it in strength and flexibility. She rained punishing blows down on her opponent's shield, forcing the opposing gladiator to retreat, step by step, until he backed up to the wall. Skillfully keeping away from his sword, she dropped low and swept his feet out from under him. The man fell to the ground with a crash. Galena stood tall, one foot on his chest and her sword at his throat. Chat Noir could see her grin up at spectators along the rim, who leaned over to get a better view of her victory.

Cheers erupted at the other end of the arena as Alya delivered a swift kick to her opponent's ribs and sent her sprawling into the dust. While Alya’s agility usually lent itself to a more genteel display, she had never been above a street-brawl style when it served. Her opposition's helmet rolled away, revealing a woman whose pain twisted her face in an unpleasant grimace. She held up one finger to show the referee that she was done.

With that, the Volpinae's exhibition match was concluded. Chat could just barely hear the clink of coins changing hands as the crowd conversed overhead, excited for the final exhibition match of the evening. The four gladiators bowed to the manager of the Games and to the crowd, then exited.

Chat Noir and Ladybug ignored the shouted introduction of the manager as he spoke at length about them and their opponents.

"Last check," she suggested. They turned to face each other. "Anything amiss?"

Ladybug was the most unconventional of women, Chat Noir thought as he took in her full appearance. Not a hair, a spot, or a weapon was out of place. Her feet were bare, as was the custom for _retiarius_. She wore a generous red loincloth. It left her spotted legs bare, but covered her hips and rear adequately enough for a gladiator. Her net, in perfect repair, was gripped in her right hand; the trident in the other hand below her padded left arm. Her overwide leather belt served to protect her middle and carried her dagger. A leather bandeau around her chest above the belt only offered modesty and support, not protection. Her metal _galerus_ covered one shoulder and flared at the top like a fin to protect her face. Behind her mask, her eyes heated with excitement and anticipation as their fight loomed. Chat Noir cleared his throat. 

"You look fine," he reassured her.

They turned toward the rust-colored sands as their announcer finished his spiel and the crowd erupted with cheers. Across the arena, Placus and Vel stepped out of their own shadowy archway. They rapped their smooth helmets together in a loud crash that put several sets of teeth on edge. The two huge _secutores_ raised their swords and shouted something unintelligible, then ran toward the opposing gate, cries of war in their throats.

"Ready for the new move?" Ladybug shouted more than asked.

"Go!" Chat Noir responded.

Ladybug took off, her own scream hurled forward at the pair of men. Chat Noir grinned and watched the sand her heels kicked up for the space of one second, then followed behind. Placus and Vel, unable to see well through the small holes that protected their eyes from tridents and swords, kept coming for a few seconds more. Their aggressive cries tapered off in confusion when they got close enough to notice there was only one opponent rushing to meet them.

Ladybug skidded to a stop about ten feet in front of them. She stabbed the butt of her trident into the ground and suddenly dropped to one knee. Both hands gripped her weapon firmly, bracing her. 

"Now!" she shouted.

Chat Noir never slowed. He ran right up her back, launching himself into the air from her right shoulder and executing a flip over the _secutores_ that took him right out of their sightline. He landed neatly behind them and whipped both swords free of their sheaths. Before the men had time to turn, he had already tapped their shoulders with the flats of his blades.

"Hey, guys," he greeted them. 

The crowd exploded. Placus grunted in surprise and respect, but Vel simply turned and slashed blindly with his blade, hoping to catch the Black Cat unawares. 

Placus, the smarter of the two, squared his back to Vel’s and trained his limited vision on Ladybug. The pair were surprisingly fast for two burly men wearing heavy helmets, tightly-strapped arm padding, enormous shields, and shin greaves. Chat Noir attempted to get his sword point past Vel’s shield, but was repeatedly rebuffed. Each of Ladybug’s attempts with her trident were similarly blocked. Ladybug saw her opening when Placus’ shield arm dipped under the weight of the thick, broad rectangle. His helmet and shoulders were momentarily exposed. In a flash, Ladybug sent her weighted net spinning over his head, expecting to capture his upper body in a tangle of line. 

“Don’t run from me; I’m just here to catch fish!” she taunted gleefully, but Placus simply executed a graceful bow, like she was a lady of prestige, and slipped backward under the weighted hem of her net. 

The scritch of her net weights scraping across his smooth helmet grated in her ears. The next moment, his shield was back up. Annoyed, Ladybug circled him and Vel, but the pair pivoted with tiny steps of their own and kept Placus in front of her at all times.

Chat Noir had easily dodged and parried Vel’s attempts to slash an opponent with no shield. This exhibition match was taking a lot longer than he’d thought it would. Placus and Vel hadn’t worked together this smoothly in the weeks leading up to this match. No matter. It was good to have worthy competitors in front of an enthusiastic crowd. The concerted gasps, cries, and cheers made him grin to himself. Lest he ever forget that a gladiator is first and foremost an entertainer.

Chat Noir caught Ladybug's eye over the muscle-bound shoulders of the staunch pair standing between them. She nodded once, her lips pressed tight together. Time to switch tactics.

He distracted Vel with an easy open, feinting with his left blade and stabbing with the right one, leaving his torso unprotected in the center. Vel fell for the trick immediately and barreled forward, determined to knock Chat Noir off his feet with his oversized shield. Chat was too quick for him, however. He peeled off to the left, jumping out of the way so rapidly that he was rewarded with a view of Vel's bull-like profile behind his shield as the bigger man charged forward. Vel's momentum kept him going even after he saw the ruse for what it was. The crowd jeered and laughed as Chat Noir slapped the flat of his blade against Vel's retreating rear end. Vel let forth a bellow of frustration. He wheeled around to face Chat Noir once again.

Meanwhile, Placus knew better than to be distracted from Ladybug as Vel's complaints intruded on their contest. He stubbornly kept his eyes on her as she tested every defense, looking for her opening. He was too cautious, Ladybug decided. She'd hoped to trick him into charging like Chat Noir had, but Placus was too canny. He was waiting for her to get tired - a game that would take a lot longer than he realized. Tikki's protection could last for hours at a time. Most gladiator matches never got past the fifteen minute mark.

Ladybug threw her net a few more times, but Placus dodged with irritating quickness. She threw it a final time, too far. Placus rushed to stand in front of the net, guarding it like gold. He settled his shield on top of his greave to rest his arm, but kept his sword up.

Ladybug harrumphed. It was time to end this fight. With only her trident left, she ran straight at Placus’ shield. She knocked his sword away with the trident and jumped high, pushing off from the shield’s upper edge to gain more air. She came down behind Placus, who struggled to turn. Snatching up her net, she cast it over his back and pulled hard, dragging him down to the ground.

Placus was finished, a tangle of ropes preventing him from using either his shield or sword to fight. The crowd thundered their hearty appreciation as Ladybug stood over her opponent with her trident at his throat. She looked up as the referee sounded the end of the match. Chat Noir and Vel stopped what they were doing and relaxed. 

Panting heavily, Ladybug offered one hand to Placus. He gripped it tightly as he rose. He had dropped his sword and shield in the dust and now added his helmet to the pile.

“Good match,” he said without rancor, still breathing heavily.

“You, too,” she responded as they walked to where the referee stood with Chat Noir and Vel.

The four of them lined up, partners next to partners, to hear the outcome of their match. Ladybug wouldn’t be surprised if it was judged a tie. From the mutterings of the crowd, she could tell several among them had come to the same conclusion.

“At the close of this fine exhibition match…” the official began, reading from a tablet loud enough for the audience to hear.

Placus leaned toward Ladybug conspiratorially and she smiled, turning her ear to hear whatever he had to say. The man was a brutal fighter, but he was surprisingly polite out of the helmet. “It’s been my honor to serve our masters with you in this space,” he began quietly, “I offer my deepest regrets.”

She looked at him quizzically, just in time to watch him snake his dagger across her unprotected shoulder, drawing a line of blood from her skin. Ladybug gasped. The wound wasn’t deep, but she watched, stupefied, as the red ran down her arm. She stepped back from Placus, shaking her head. It felt fuzzy.

“ _Ladybug!_ ” With a roar, Chat Noir crashed between them, drawing a sword and holding it to Placus’ unprotected chin. “What did you do?” he demanded of Placus.

Chat Noir protectively interposed his muscular figure between Ladybug and the _secutor_ , but the damage was already done. The official’s squawking cries for help were the last thing Ladybug heard as she sank down onto the sand and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damnati - prisoners condemned to execution  
> Vomitoria - contrary to popular rumor, these are actually just the exits of a large amphitheatre - so large and efficient that they appear to vomit forth the hurried crowds  
> Murmillo - a style of gladiator with a heavy helmet and large shield for protection  
> Hoplomachus - a style of gladiator armed to resemble a Greek hoplite (soldier with heavy armor and helmet, a round shield, a spear and a sword)


	8. Magic and Mending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat Noir waits as Ladybug fights for her life. Ladybug shares a secret.

Chat Noir paced outside the _medicus’_ office as Ivan examined Ladybug. She’d been breathing as he carried her back to Ludus Magnus, but so pale. It had to be poison. What had Placus been doing with a poisoned blade?! And at a non-lethal match, no less. Chat Noir knew gladiators were the lowest of the low, but he’d never met one with so little honor as to cheat in the arena.

He swore under his breath. He knew where Placus was locked up. He would wait until after dark, use Plagg to sneak past the guards, draw his sword - the sudden opening of Ivan’s door interrupted Chat Noir’s vicious and comforting train of thought.

“You can see her now. She’s still unconscious.” Ivan’s tall bulk moved to one side, allowing Chat Noir access to the room.

As he entered, he remembered he was still in his mask and ears. He tore them off as he crossed the room to a thinly padded table pressed against the opposite wall. Ivan and Mylene had removed Ladybug’s armor. His eyes traveled up her form to see that her mask was missing as well.

“Ivan, you didn’t… she’s going to be pissed about this.” Adrien was nonetheless compelled to her side, staring down at her pale skin and listening to the shallow breaths she drew.

“Mylene warned me, but I needed to check for head injury. I… can’t guarantee she’s going to make it, Adrien.” 

The words struck Adrien like a sharp, icy stone in the pit of his stomach. He frowned, indicating her arm. 

“You couldn’t bother to clean her up?” A stain of wet, red blood still coated her arm from Placus’ shallow cut.

Ivan came to stand beside him. “I’m letting it run a bit, to try and get the poison out. The fact that she isn’t already dead is a miracle in itself. If there’s any chance we can lessen the amount of poison in her system, it improves her odds of surviving.”

Adrien gently encircled her upper arm with calloused fingers, his thumb smearing the scarlet blood that ran over black circles of dye. The colors of a real ladybug, he realized with a bitter smile. “Let me take her back to her room.”

Ivan agreed with a curt nod. Adrien reaffixed Ladybug’s mask and the pair lifted her gently off the table. They transported her to her bedroom with little trouble. Ivan left a bundle of clean rags and string when it became apparent Adrien wasn’t planning to leave.

“You can clean and dress the wound in thirty minutes. See if she’ll take some water; it’ll help her system. Otherwise, just pray that she makes it through the night.” Ivan turned to leave, gripping the edge of the door in one large, skilled hand.

“Ivan?” Adrien’s voice stopped him and the tall man looked back. “Thank you.”

Ivan nodded with a tight smile and left the room. Adrien tried to arrange Ladybug comfortably and placed one of the rags under her arm to keep blood from spilling onto her bed roll. He pulled her blanket up over her bare legs and her good arm. Her pallor in the evening light was frightening. He untied Ladybug’s mask and put it on the table next to her bed. A small, red figurine of some kind had been left out. He’d never noticed it before.

Adrien stripped off his swords, realizing for the first time that he still wore his gladiator get up. The hilts of his swords clanged jarringly against Marinette’s table as he maneuvered awkwardly in the small space. Only after it was off did he realized he was tunic-less on an increasingly cold night. He really didn’t want to leave, even for a moment.

“Plagg, claws off,” he sighed, holding the hilts of the sheathed swords. A quiet flash momentarily brightened the room, and then his black cat was staring sourly up at him from Marinette’s table.

"I need cheese," Plagg said, curt. "You wore my protection for hours longer than you needed to. Food, human!" He turned and noticed the red statuette for the first time. "Oh! Whoa, hey, didn't mean to intrude."

"Who are you talking to?" Adrien asked, shivering as he settled into Marinette's chair to remove his greaves.

He could almost literally feel the adrenaline draining out of his system. His hands shook as he reached down to untie the straps behind his calves. A knock sounded on the door before Plagg could answer. When Adrien's head jerked up to check the table, the cat was already gone. Adrien scrambled to put Marinette's mask back on.

"Enter!" he called toward the door when he had finished.

A bundle of fabric with legs walked through the dormitory door. The pile of clothing and blankets was deposited on Marinette's trunk and revealed Alya behind it, her face streaked with tears. With a sniff, she bent and tugged loose a man's woolen tunic, thrusting it at Adrien. He unfolded it gratefully and pulled it over his head and arms.

"What happened, Adrien? Mylene said poison; how..." she stared down the bed at Marinette, at a loss for words.

Adrien stood, still in his greaves, and enfolded his friend in a hug. "Hey, she'll be okay. She made it this far. Ivan said if she makes it through the night, she'll probably be fine." 

Alya drew back, pinning him with a thousand yard stare. "If? _If?_ That's not good enough." She dissolved into fresh tears, kneeling next to Ladybug's bed and taking her hand. "She's cold."

Adrien bent to the stack of blankets and handed two to Alya. "Here, you get her comfortable. Ivan made me wait to clean the cut, but it's time now."

He checked the pitcher for water and poured some out into a small washing bowl. He cleaned carefully around the shallow little slice, which had thankfully stopped bleeding. He tied twine around neatly placed rags, giving the area a final, gentle touch to be sure it was secure. He knew it was impossible, but to him, Ladybug looked a little less pale with the wound dressed.

Meanwhile, Alya had tucked extra blankets around the young woman's supine form. She came closer and inspected Adrien's work. 

"Nice job," she complimented with a nod.

Adrien threw a humorless smile up at her. "Thanks for the clothes."

She flapped a hand at him. "Of course. I knew you wouldn't be leaving. I'd stay myself, if I didn't need to be with Remus. Nathalie is spitting fire, by the way. She hasn't let the _lanista_ of Ludus Gallicus out of her sight since you carried Ladybug out of the arena. If she... if she dies..." Alya swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks and continued, "If she dies, you can bet there are going to be some major reparations coming."

"Well, I'm sure that's very comforting to Nathalie," Adrien muttered, his eyes hardening as he looked again at Ladybug's face.

Hours later, Adrien settled into a makeshift bedroll after Alya left. Fumbling in the dark, he reached up and felt for Marinette's hand under her blankets. It was warm. He gave the delicate fingers a caress before he released them and laid back down. He closed his eyes, but was still too keyed up to sleep. With a sigh, Adrien nestled on his back in the bedroll and stared at the ceiling.

Adrien dozed on and off for a few hours on the cold floor, the moment of Placus' crime replaying itself in brief dreams. A thin sliver of moonlight shone through Marinette's closed shutters, giving just enough light to see the dark shapes of her furniture. Plagg rejoined him and curled close, purring. Finally, he woke at one point from a light doze to hear her breathing deepen and even out. Eyes popping open, Adrien half rose on one elbow to get a look at the injured woman.

At first he thought exhaustion was making him hallucinate. A rosy glow emanated from Marinette's skin and slowly seeped away toward the figurine on her table. If a glow could ever be said to stagger, this one did. The statuette's red surface flickered a few times, then went dim. Adrien's gaze switched to Plagg, whose green eyes flashed eerily in the darkness as he watched. Plagg shook his head in a very human-like gesture.

"Leave it alone for tonight," he said in a low tone that was more command than suggestion. "She'll be fine now. Get some sleep."

Reassured, Adrien lay back and fell into a deep sleep.

 

Two days passed before Marinette opened her eyes, blinking cautiously against the pale light coming through her window. She curled her fingers around the edge of her blanket. Turning her head minutely, she was surprised to see Adrien slouched over her table, his broad arms cradling his head and light snores issuing from his mouth. Marinette wanted to speak, but found her tongue and lips were parched. She managed a small sound as she cleared her throat instead.

"Adrien," she croaked.

Her eyes wandered past him to Tikki’s statue on the table. _Oh, no!_

"Tikki!" she managed with her rough throat, then began to cough.

Adrien woke with a start, then sat up suddenly when he heard her coughing. "Marinette! You're awake! Oh, hold on."

He stood quickly, knocking her chair over backward as he grabbed the pitcher of water and a small cup beside it. He poured her a glass and pressed it to her lips, sitting down next to her on the bed. Marinette tried to reach up and take the glass for herself, but she felt surprisingly weak. How long had she been asleep? Why did her head pound so much?

Adrien's green eyes bored into hers as she managed the first few sips with his help. "Do you remember what happened?"

She shook her head. Adrien helped her to sit up and finally handed her the cup. She gripped it weakly against her lap. Suddenly, a flash of memory, of Placus, shot through her mind and she gasped. "Poison! He poisoned me!"

Adrien nodded. "His family was taken hostage for debt he owed. When Placus wasn't able to draw blood during the fight and have you mysteriously die, he took a gamble at the end, hoping it would appease his creditors." Adrien's look was troubled. "He nearly killed you, Marinette."

"Adrien," Marinette looked back at Tikki's figurine and the dull sheen of its red enamel, "could you bring me some food? I need it right now. Please?"

Startled, he jumped up. "Yeah! Of course! I'll be right back." Adrien hesitated, then squeezed her hand tightly before quitting the room, closing her door quietly behind him.

Marinette sighed. "Hang in there, Tikki. I'm so sorry."

She looked more closely around her room, parting the shutters above her bed for more light. Her mask was easily within reach at the edge of the table. The toppled chair had landed on a rolled bundle of blankets. Had Adrien been sleeping here? She herself was covered in three or four extra blankets; in fact, she was starting to feel pretty hot. She pushed two of them down to the edge of the bed, feeling an uncharacteristic shake in her arms as she did so.

She answered Adrien's quiet knock as he returned with a raspy, "Come in," then proceeded to sip more of her water.

He entered with honeycakes from the cafeteria. "Ivan wants to check you over in a little while, if that's okay. Um... he took your mask off. Mylene was there, too. They are the only ones who saw."

Marinette could see the apprehension in Adrien's eyes, but she was too exhausted to feel anxiety. She shook her head. 

"It is what it is. I trust to the _medicus'_ discretion." She held the food in her hands and snuck a peek at the innocuous statue on the table. “Umm, do you mind leaving…?”

Adrien shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.” He trailed her view to the table. “If this has something to do with magic, I already saw. Well, I saw something, at any rate.”

Marinette sighed. These were the things she’d been worried about when Nathalie had assigned her a partner. She watched him as he righted the chair, thinking. Adrien didn’t recognize her face or name. He’d proven himself trustworthy over and over. If she were to introduce Tikki to anyone, he’d top the list. She shrugged. She was out of options, anyway.

“Alright,” Marinette replied, breaking into Adrien’s general tidying and reshuffling of the room’s contents. “Tikki, why don’t you come out and meet my friend?”

The translucence of the tiny being that lifted itself from the statue made Marinette wince. She shoved honeycakes toward Tikki, who daintily settled herself on the surface of the table.

“ _Salve_ , Adrien,” she said before starting in on the treats.

“She’s weak,” Marinette explained. “I usually feed her before and after a match.”

“And she protects you, right?” Adrien didn’t seem at all fazed as he sat down, resting his head on one elbow to get a better look at the red goddess. He addressed Tikki directly, his face a few inches from hers. “You stopped the poison, didn’t you? You saved her, even though it was a risk.”

“Yes!” Tikki replied happily, finishing her last bite and staring into Adrien’s face with dark blue eyes. “It’s what I’m here to do. We’re partners in a different way from you and Marinette. And I love her.”

“I love you, too, Tikki,” Marinette replied.

The goddess alit upon her shoulder and pressed her cheek to Marinette’s. She was definitely more substantial. Her thin coloring had become a vibrant scarlet again.

“So you’re a healer?” Adrien asked.

“I’d say it’s more like she puts things right again. And she brings me good luck.”

“And perhaps some extra strength when you need it?”

“Yeah I don’t come by it entirely naturally, they way you do,” Marinette laughed. 

Adrien suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable, but she couldn’t imagine why. After a while, Tikki went to rest and Marinette stated she needed to do the same. Adrien left to go share the good news of her recovery with Alya and Nino as she slipped into a much-needed nap.


	9. Io, Saturnalia!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladybug and Chat Noir are invited to stay at the palace for the Saturnalia festival. Ladybug receives gifts from a fan.

It took nearly a month for Marinette to regain her full strength, which was a miracle by Ivan's standards and a frustratingly long time by her own. She missed training. The physical exhaustion, the camaraderie with Alya and Adrien and Nino, the orderliness of her days, the resulting strength and confidence… She had been working toward freedom from gladiator life since the very start of her career. Her longing to return to it during her convalescence felt confusing.

Adrien checked on her constantly, almost as though he were afraid she might disappear if he were gone too long. Knowing that Tikki was with Marinette put his mind at ease, he said, but he remained nearby at all times of day and night.

The weather grew colder. Marinette grudgingly used Tikki’s warm protection to ward off the chill as her strength returned.

“She's right,” Adrien agreed one afternoon, pacing up and down Marinette’s floor as she watched, curled up on her bed with a blanket, “Just getting healthy is the goal here.”

“I know,” Marinette grumbled. “I'm just tired of feeling like this. Like I need help all the time.” She watched him cross the narrow space from door to table a few more times. “You're agitated. What's up?”

Adrien stopped abruptly in his tracks. "Huh? Oh, I um... I'm waiting for a letter. Sorry. Didn't notice what I was doing."

He forced himself to straighten and shook out his arms, interlacing his fingers to stretch up overhead.

"A letter from whom?" Marinette asked, her curiousity piqued.

"My mater, actually. She always sends a package for Saturnalia. I wrote her a couple months ago and I usually hear back in time for the festival."

Marinette rearranged herself to face Adrien as he took a seat in her chair, his fretting visibly lessening as he spoke. He put one heel against the side of her bed, tilting the chair back on two legs and folded his hands behind his head.

"Tell me about her," Marinette encouraged.

Adrien's lips twisted up in a wistful smile. 

"She's the only person I miss from back home, except for my sisters. She's graceful, and smart... she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. She's where I get the blond hair from. Pater is much darker in coloring. And she's got eyes... actually, your eyes remind me of her." Adrien turned such an intense look on her that she felt her cheeks start to warm.

"Well, she sounds like a lovely woman. I wish I could meet her." 

Adrien leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"Me, too," he murmured. "She's got a knack for figuring out who's worth knowing and who just wants to be known. She'd like you."

Marinette smiled broadly, but her face fell at his next question. 

"What about you? Do you miss anyone from home?"

"I... ah, I'm sorry Adrien, but I'd really rather not talk about it. I want to distance myself from my past. Nothing good can come of going back, even in my memories."

She could tell he was hurt, and she sighed. She did miss someone, very much. Someone she would never see again, so why bring herself pain by dwelling on it?

They both looked up as a knock sounded at the door. Marinette whipped her mask over her eyes with practiced ease as Adrien lowered her chair with a thunk and rose to answer the summons. A servant stood with two parchment letters and a wrapped package in his hands.

"Alright! Mater came through!" Adrien shouted, grabbing the package before the servant could even tell him what it was. 

He held it up high in one hand and grinned back at Ladybug, who peered at the other two items.

"What are those?" she asked the young man.

"Miss Nathalie sent me to deliver them. She didn't tell me," he replied with a shrug.

Ladybug held out a hand curiously. They looked official. What was Nathalie sending them letters for? She cracked the seal on her parchment with a thumb and unfolded the letter. It was an invitation.

_You are cordially invited to a five-day Saturnalia celebration at the royal palace of Emperor Hawkmoth to take place in three day's time…_

Adrien's sober expression mirrored her own as she looked up.

"Are we seriously invited to party with the Emperor this year?" His words sounded shocked, hollow, but his eyes sparked with humor.

"Looks like we are."

"We're still gladiator scum, right? I didn't wake up re-enobled this morning?"

"Yep, we're still low class. Oh, no..."

"What, Marinette?"

"What in all the heavens am I going to wear?"

 

The next morning, Ladybug took her first journey out of the _ludus_ since her near-death experience. She reluctantly allowed Adrien to bundle her into a waiting _carpentum_ , their destination a mystery.

"Why won't you tell me where we're going?" she grumped, crossing her arms as the driver whipped the horses into motion.

"The person we're meeting wanted it to be a surprise," Adrien responded with a too-charming smile.

"I've had enough surprises," Ladybug muttered.

"You'll like this one. Oh, look, we're already here."

They exited and stood on the street in front of an imposing house, its _ostium_ updated to the absolute latest fashion sweeping Rome. Four shop fronts stood stalwart on either side of the door and housed high-end merchants trading in expensive imports, furniture, and jewelry.

"Whose home is this?" asked Ladybug with a suspicious eyebrow.

Adrien didn't answer, instead knocking on the door. A servant in an impeccably white tunic answered and ushered them into a lush _atrium_ filled with exotic plants in ceramic pots. Feeling out of place in her layers and layers of plain fabric, Ladybug seated herself on a decorative bench and studied a wall mosaic depicting pleasant pastoral scenes. Prominently featured were several honeybees perched upon brightly colored flowers in the shade of idealized trees. Dripping honeycombs were lovingly embellished with bright amber flecks upon an altar bearing the name of Mellonia, the goddess of bees. The volume of greenery warmed the room and kept the echoes of footfalls to a whisper. It was a delightful place. Adrien stood comfortably in the soft silence, as though he'd been to this house before. 

“Laaaadybug!” A loud voice crashed incongruously through the gentle tinkle of the _atrium’s_ fountain.

“You didn’t,” Ladybug whispered. Adrien could only chuckle into one hand as a radiantly blond woman appeared around a line of potted plants. She rushed to Ladybug and grabbed both of her hands in hers, pulling her up into a bone-crushing hug.

"It's been so long!" Chloe exclaimed, oblivious to Ladybug's hesitation. "I heard about your poisoning ordeal - I saw the whole thing happen in the Flavian Amphitheatre! Just awful!" Her bright, blue doe eyes turned concerned and she rubbed Ladybug's arm sympathetically. "How are you?"

"Well, I'm not dead," Ladybug murmured, cracking a half smile. 

Chloe Bourgeois, one of the most prominent socialites of Rome, was well known to both gladiators. Chloe’s whip-smart intelligence and business acumen had ensured she stayed wealthy upon the death of her first husband. Widowed at a young age, she had suitors lined up around the block, but she’d been content to stay single for three years. She had no qualms about enjoying the company of whatever society she chose, even distasteful gladiators.

Ladybug didn't want to like Chloe, but the woman's genuine affection for all things Ladybug was endearing. "Um... Chloe? Adrien didn't tell me why we're visiting you today."

"Oh, my goodness, no. It's a surprise. Here, come with me." 

Tucking Ladybug’s hand under her arm, Chloe pulled Ladybug through the green interior garden toward the back of her house. "Now, a very handsome kitty told me you two will be visiting Emperor Hawkmoth in a couple of days." 

Chloe turned and batted her eyes at Adrien. He had followed them out of the _atrium_. Ladybug felt an unaccountable irritation at hearing someone else call Adrien _Kitty_. She took a steadying breath. Chloe stopped as they came to the _triclinium_ , which wasn't at all ready for dining. Three men stood waiting with their hands behind their backs. On the table, several rolls of fine fabric were piled haphazardly.

Ladybug shook her head. "Oh, Chloe, you didn't!"

"I did, and I am. You need to look your best for a visit to the Emperor, after all. Oh! And I almost forgot. This won't serve in a fight, but for a Saturnalia festival..." from the folds of her over-tunic, Chloe produced a glittering mask, set with red enamel and bright rubies. Two finely-wrought gold loops at the corners anchored generous black silk ties.

Ladybug gasped. "That must have taken weeks of work! How did you know?”

Chloe pressed it into Ladybug’s palms with a giggle. "Tata helped with the guest list for this year. I knew who was on it ages ago. Simple!" 

She snapped her fingers, a satisfied canary in yellow. 

"Shall we all turn our backs while you try it on? I insist." 

Chloe circled a finger at the men in the room, who turned around instantly. Checking to be sure no one peeked, Ladybug switched the masks quickly. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment and excitement. There was a time when fancy custom-made clothing would have meant nothing to her. From the way her stomach was tied up with butterflies, she had apparently left that girl far behind.

"Alright, you can turn back," she said as she tugged at the bottom of the unyielding mask to settle it over her cheeks.

Chloe clapped her hands and hopped up and down in a surprisingly girlish gesture. "Perfect!! Oh, I am so good. Let's get the rest of you done."

The three men took measurements as Chloe hovered. She interjected as they took notes and discussed options for the fine, longsleeved tunic they would apparently be making for Ladybug. Ladybug wouldn't have minded putting her opinion in too, but she suspected the only reason the tailors tolerated Chloe so well was that she was paying them large sums of money to do so. Chloe convinced Adrien that he needed a black tunic for Saturnalia and had him measured as well.

They all agreed that the partners would both present themselves to the Ageless Emperor in their gladiator personas, since their successes in the arena were clearly what had brought them to Emperor Hawkmoth’s attention.

Chloe, despite already being dressed in a daytime tunic suitable for meeting heads of state, insisted on being measured for something new as well.

"Will you be there, too?" Ladybug asked from where she lounged on a dining couch, watching the tailors force Adrien to stand up tall so they could take his height. Chloe raised her arms imperiously as one of the men wrapped a tape around her waist.

"Like I said, Tata was there when Emperor Hawkmoth made the list. Besides, the Emperor and I go way back. He's known me since I was a child."

Ladybug and Adrien were ushered back to the front of the house once the sartorial cataloging was concluded.

"Here, this is for the mask," Chloe prompted, handing Ladybug a small wooden box with two iron hinges. She whispered conspiratorially, "I made it look ugly on purpose, so no one thinks something special is in there. Adrien told me you don't really have a safe place to keep things in your...dormitory." 

She said the word like it was a synonym for latrine. Ladybug forced herself to keep a straight face and nodded solemnly.

"Chloe, I can't thank you enough for your hospitality."

“It was nothing! _Salve sis_! See you at Saturnalia!”

 

The first night of Saturnalia was warmer than expected, and Adrien welcomed the unseasonable weather for Marinette's sake. Their palace-worthy costumes had arrived before noon, about an hour before Nino let him knock off training to go get ready for the big event.

Alone in his room, he shook out the soft, new wool with a sigh.

He hadn't put his ears or mask on since the day of Ladybug's injury. What had started as a joke had become something else. He felt more revealed than hidden in Chat Noir's costume. He'd only ever put it on to amuse his Ladybug... Adrien stopped his train of thought. _His_ Ladybug? Well, there was no point in denying it anymore, at least to himself. Watching her nearly die had changed everything for him.

Adrien could see a good life for them at the _ludus_. He'd come here looking to make a name he couldn't make back home, but he'd found so much more. A family. Nino, Alya, Kim, Mylene, even Lila... and most of all, Marinette. He knew she never intended it, but her confidence and intelligence drew him, like a moth to her light. 

She’d made it clear she wanted out, though. Everything she did, every fight, every moment of training was in service to her dream of freedom from Ludus Magnus. He couldn't blame her. She hadn't come here voluntarily, an _auctorati_ like him. And whatever life she'd led before this one, it had instilled in her stubbornness to rival a mule.

Plagg sauntered out from somewhere in the shadows to watch him get ready. "I don't know whether to be flattered or disgusted by those ears," he grouched, stretching his forelegs out in front of him.

"I've got enough on my mind without your input," Adrien replied as he adjusted the pins and tied on his mask.

"Oooh, what's eating you? Love of your life turn you down?" Plagg settled on his haunches and canted his head to start licking his own chest.

Adrien was silent for a few moments, fiddling with his clothes. He didn’t feel like having Plagg for a confidant. He was a good companion, but single-minded.

"Sure," replied the young man, fully suited as Chat Noir. He turned to leave the room.

"Bring her a dead mouse! It works every time!" Plagg called to his back as he shut the door.

Chat Noir’s first glimpse of Ladybug, with her hair intricately styled and her spotted red tunic flowing about her figure, should have brightened his evening. He worked to shake off his melancholy as he politely handed her up into the opulent imperial carriage that awaited them.

Chloe had sent on a few pieces of jewelry to go with the mask, he noticed. The young woman sparkled at her neck, wrists, and eyes. Despite the mask’s impressive jeweled glitter, he wished Ladybug were barefaced Marinette this evening. He bit his tongue before he could let the errant comment slip past his lips.

“You look handsome this evening, Kitty,” she said charitably.

Chat Noir evinced a broad smile, knowing she meant it kindly. “Thanks. You look… you’re beautiful, Ladybug.”

He watched her blush rise under the mask and his heartbeat sped up. They rode in silence, watching Rome’s people celebrate the first night of the festival in the streets.

The Ageless Emperor’s palace was elegant without being gaudy. The palace grounds stretched far beyond the actual structure, though Chat Noir could only see vague outlines of manicured topiary in the dark. The Emperor’s _carpentum_ disgorged them in front of a broad entryway and they were led through gilded halls decorated with mosaics and frescoes depicting scenes of the gods. Two massive doors were pulled open to reveal the throne room. 

Emperor Hawkmoth sat eerily still at one end, as though he were a carved part of his ornate throne. His neatly trimmed gray-blonde hair shone more brightly than a crown. A formal _toga picta_ , purple with gold embroidery, overlaid his short-sleeved tunic. The _toga picta_ was embellished with a beautiful purple butterfly brooch, which the Emperor fingered absently as he watched them with intelligent gray eyes. Their servant guide announced them.

“If it please the Emperor, I present Gladiator Ladybug and Gladiator Chat Noir, the _primi pali_ of Ludus Magnus,” he bawled with a flourish.

The duo bowed gracefully before the emperor, faces pointed toward the floor. Chat Noir had removed his mask upon entering the throne room, but Ladybug’s was firmly affixed over her nose and cheekbones.

“Welcome, Guests. We are honored to offer you our home this Saturnalia,” the Emperor said.

“Your Majesty, we are grateful for your generous invitation,” Chat Noir responded, head bowed. 

“Quite. I usually like to see whom I am speaking with, however,” the Emperor drawled coolly, his eyes boring into the top of Ladybug’s head.

“If it please your Majesty, I prefer my anonymity,” she replied to the tile in front of her face. 

Chat Noir tensed, rolling his eyes to see her though his body stayed motionless. Her tone had remained utterly polite, even reverent, despite the content of her speech. Emperor Hawkmoth’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but an unexpected smile crossed his lips.

“So it shall be, then, my little Ladybug. Chat Noir, however, is known by another name. Adrien Agreste, son of Governor Gabriel Agreste of Aquitania. How is it with your family?" Emperor Hawkmoth leaned forward slightly.

"Very well, your Majesty. I received a letter from my mater just last week. They are all in good health." Chat Noir resisted the urge to look up at the Emperor as he spoke. 

"Wonderful. I'm glad to hear it. You may rise and join the party.” He dismissed them with a wave of his hand and their attendant ushered them out.

In a noisy entertaining hall, Chloe was the first to see them and flag them down, bustling up with a cup of wine. She was resplendent in an expensive yellow _stolla_ , deeply embroidered with striking black designs. Her wardrobe palette was mirrored with an onyx necklace set in gold. The black-and-white stone was carved to display, oddly, cameos of bees rather than people. Gold hair pins set with smaller bits of polished onyx glittered in her intricate updo. 

“So, how did the interview go? Ladybug, you look sensational in the mask! Chat Noir, I don’t know if the ears are really you...but they’re kind of cute. Here, wave at my pater, he’s talking to Senator Gaius -”

Ladybug and Chat Noir exchanged a glance as they let her run on. One or two other guests tried to greet them, but Chloe just stood in front and kept talking. Finally, Ladybug grabbed her arm.

“Let’s continue this over by the buffet,” she suggested, much to Chat Noir’s relief.

“Sure!” Chloe agreed, trailing them to the lavish tables. Eventually the stream of words slowed enough for Ladybug to ask a question she’d been holding onto.

“Chloe, why does everyone call him the Ageless Emperor, anyway?”

“Oh! That’s a brilliant nickname, isn’t it? I guess it’s because he’s been ruling forever and is still like, going strong. And it suits him; he looks great for his age.”

“He does,” Ladybug agreed as Chat Noir frowned.

“How old is he?” Chat Noir asked, munching thoughtfully on finger foods.

“I’m not sure. Maybe his fifties? He was done expanding the borders when we were all small. He looks about the same age now as I remember from when I was little, but you know how childhood memories are.”

“Mmmm. What about the butterfly brooch? It’s unusual.” Marinette had only noticed it because of the way the Emperor had kept a hand on it, as thought afraid it might disappear under his nose.

“Striking, isn’t it? One of a kind. Rumor has it he never takes it off! At least, I’ve never seen the Emperor without it. Felix told me this story once…” Chloe trailed off as she waved to a couple wearing matching green outfits and sandals.

“Yes?” Marinette prodded.

“It’s from before he was born. His tutor used to tell him stories about his father, swearing they were all true, and then when Emperor Hawkmoth found out, the tutor was _replaced_ , if you know what I mean,” Chloe dropped her voice to a whisper and hid her mouth behind one hand. 

“Anyway, back when the Emperor was just a general, the story went that he was campaigning far out from Rome. There was a battle, and he was injured so badly he nearly died, but then he heard about this old man who had magic and he demanded the man be brought to him. The old man pinned that brooch on the Emperor - well, he was a general then, but you get it - and said to never, ever, ever take it off. So he never has, not in my lifetime, anyway.

“Some people say it’s the reason he looks so young, but that’s stupid. Clearly it’s the salt scrubs, honey, and milk baths. Those will work wonders.” Chloe smiled prettily, then turned as someone called her name.

“Sabrina! You made it! Excuse me, you two,” she pressed the hands of both the gladiators, then swept away in a perfumed swirl of lemon yellow to welcome another friend.

With a mutual sigh of relief, the partners walked the other direction, into the crush of guests and notables to rub elbows with Emperor Hawkmoth’s elite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salve sis - may you be well  
> Auctorati - a volunteer gladiator who signs a school contract willingly, seeking fame, adventure, or money


	10. Cat or Mouse?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During Saturnalia, Ladybug and Chat Noir exchange gifts. Ladybug meets Plagg and Chat Noir receives a strange invitation.

The whole festival of Saturnalia was a rest week for Ludus Magnus. Gladiators came and went, both as invited guests and hired entertainment for parties. Most of Rome was given leave to celebrate. Cries of "Io, Saturnalia!" could be heard through the windows at any time of day or night, as revelers wandered the streets outside.

Ladybug escaped the palace one afternoon to retrieve a gift for Chat Noir bundled up in her trunk. She'd completely forgotten about it. Alya accompanied her to her room and hovered over one shoulder as Ladybug dug around.

"So what's the palace like?" Alya asked, her eyes flashing with curiosity.

"It's been... big. That's the first impression. It all looks really beautiful and expensive, but mostly big." Ladybug sat back comfortably on her haunches and looked up at her friend.

"Do you have your own room?"

"Yeah! They keep it really warm, too. There's a fireplace... lots of blankets..." she paused as Alya laughed. "What so funny?"

"You. The way you're concerned with creature comforts. I mean, I bet there's like, priceless art on the walls and sculptures in the corners, and a gold hairbrush, and you're telling me you have plenty of blankets."

Ladybug shrugged, smiling fondly at Alya. "I guess it's true. Hey, can you come up? I'm sure I could bring a friend for the afternoon, to check it all out." She smiled again when Alya rewarded her with an excited gasp.

"You bet! Let me just go tell Nino." Alya left the room in an instant.

"Brink a cloak! The hallways are freezing!" Ladybug called after her.

She turned back to her quest and finally unearthed the tiny prize. Per Saturnalia tradition, it was cheap. About as cheap as she could find, but perfect. She curled her hands around it, then lifted a castoff piece of fabric to wrap it in. Yes, perfect.

The two friends chatted all the way to the palace, wrapped up warmly against the day's brisk, cold air. As the temporary mistress of the house, Ladybug confidently walked up to the palace entrance holding Alya's hand in hers. Their steps echoed in the grand atrium as they walked slowly. Alya's head turned this way and that, taking in the rich mosaics and colorful frescoes.

"Oooh, I love this one!" she exclaimed, running up to a reverent image of Apollo detailed with painted gold leaf.

"There's this one point in the day when the sun shines directly on that part of the wall," Ladybug replied, joining her. "It's brilliant. Hey, let's go find Chat."

The palace seemed uncharacteristically empty for such a large place, but Ladybug explained that only a skeleton crew was here to take care of their needs during Saturnalia. After the main feast of the first night, Emperor Hawkmoth had retired to his villa in the country, giving them the run of the place.

"Aww, so he's not playing servant to your master this week?" Alya pouted, but it was only in jest.

"Now that I've met the man, I can't imagine him ever taking the ruse that far," Ladybug shook her head. "He's like... a strict uncle or something. I don't know how to describe him. He seems like he's been around forever, but doesn't look that old. He's way too dignified to take on a serving role, even for Saturnalia."

They saw a servant girl with a basket then, and Ladybug flagged her down to help in the search for Chat Noir. The young woman nodded and dashed off in the direction of his rooms.

"She'll find him. He might even be cat napping at this time of day."

Alya groaned. "Don't tell me his puns are rubbing off on you. Does everyone call him Chat Noir here?"

"Yeah, it's kind of weird. I guess I shouldn't judge. People only want to interact with our gladiator personas and he's happy to oblige. I hate to say it, but hosting fine _cenae_ every night and doing the minimal amount of house management I do every day is surprisingly exhausting. Still a vacation from gladiator training, though."

"It would have to be," Alya mused.

They reached Ladybug's rooms and she opened the doors with a grand flourish. Alya lifted her head to take in the frescoed cupola that topped the roof. It was elevated within the rest of the ceiling, allowing for vertical skylights that let in the bright afternoon sun. Placid pastoral scenes with gods and nymphs stretched across, some of them gazing dreamily into space and some of them smiling down at the viewer.

"I had no idea..." Alya murmured. "If I lived here, I would look at this ceiling for the rest of my life and never get off the bed." She flopped down backward onto said bed, which was piled up with blankets and pillows.

"So cooooozy..." she snuggled down into the soft nest. "Do you think anyone would notice if we switched places?"

"Mmmm, probably just Nino. Would I get to wear your helmet?" Ladybug sank onto the edge of the bed, teasing her friend.

A knock at the door caught their attention and Chat Noir let himself into the room.

"Hey- Alya! What are you doing here?" Chat Noir crossed the room quickly and embraced her.

"She's going to be the new Ladybug; I'm headed back to the _ludus_ ," Ladybug joked.

"I can't believe you have the ears and mask on," Alya said, looking up at him.

Chat Noir shrugged. "Anytime I'm just Adrien, people ask me to put them on. It's crazy up here."

"Well, you can take them off with us. You're weirding me out," Alya frowned.

He obliged, stripping off the mask and hair pins.

"I have something for you," Ladybug said, realizing that he'd walked in with a small package in his hands.

Adrien smiled charmingly. "Looks like it's time for our gift exchange, then. You and Alya can share this one."

He handed her something soft wrapped in a kitchen towel as she pulled out her own cloth-covered item. She folded back the edge of the towel to reveal a loaf of bread and showed it to Alya, puzzled. 

"There's more," Adrien confessed, holding out a second package.

This one was more elegantly wrapped, round, with hard sides. Ladybug slipped the packaging back to find... a cheese wheel?

"My mater made it," he said, scuffing the floor lightly with one toe.

"Your mother makes cheese? And sends it to you?" Alya asked, nonplussed.

"Yeah, she does. It's really good; it's a family recipe!" Adrien raised one hand as if to defend himself, then let it drop. "Anyway, it's got local herbs in it; always reminds me of home."

Ladybug refolded the package. "Thank you, Adrien. It sounds wonderful."

She handed him her own small gift.

"Happy Saturnalia!" she offered as she sat down next to Alya.

Adrien unknotted a length of twine she had used and unfolded the cloth. Ladybug watched uncertainly as he peered inside. Didn't he like it? Why didn't he say anything?

He burst out laughing in the next moment and held up a traditional Saturnalia clay doll for Alya to see. Its pointy little cat ears stood out distinctly against the mostly-human head. Alya laughed too.

Ladybug grinned broadly. "You like it?"

"Where did you find a doll with cat ears? That's perfect!" Adrien replied, still chuckling. "I'll treasure it always, Ladybug."

He emphasized the dramatic sentiment with a little formal bow. She hoped she hadn't given him the wrong impression. The little cat-man doll wasn't worth much, but she hadn't been able to pass it up.

Her gaze inadvertently drifted over his profile as he settled the doll back into the cloth. Even in the winter, he was looking tan and healthy. The line of his square jaw slid elegantly to his strong chin, tucked against his chest. He had the straightest nose she'd ever seen on a man who fought for a living. 

His head rose and she turned away, cheeks burning at the thought of getting caught staring. She looked down at the cheese in her hands.

"We'll get into this later. It's almost time for the _cena_." Ladybug stood up, setting the cheese and bread on a table next to her bed.

Alya sighed. "I have to get on back to the _ludus_. Remus is probably running holes in the rug around Nino."

The friends all embraced, and Ladybug escorted Alya on the long walk back out of the palace grounds. Alya stopped briefly at the front gate. 

"Girl, be careful with him," she cautioned.

"What are you talking about?" Ladybug asked. She didn't like the way her throat tightened up with the question.

"He got you fancy cheese from Gaul for Saturnalia. You know his reputation. Just... be careful."

"Yeah. Fancy gift, low regard, right?"

Alya pursed her lips and fixed Ladybug with a well-honed motherly stare. "I don't think that's the message he's sending."

"You have nothing to worry about, Alya. He's my partner. That's it."

With one last hug, Ladybug waited for Alya to step into the _carpentum_ , then waved as she rolled away.

 

That night, after yet another ebullient _cena_ crowd at the palace had broken up and left for their homes, Marinette woke to hear rustling in her dim room. The fire had nearly burned down to embers, leaving the expanse of air around her cold.

 _Oh, great, a rat,_ she thought. The moment she moved against her blanket, the rustling stopped. She stilled, listening. After a minute or so, the sound resumed.

This would not stand. Fortunately, Marinette wasn't afraid of rats. She silently tensed her muscles. When the rustling sound increased, she pounced in the dark with both hands. Something furry and angry struggled against her grip, but she held on. Marinette jumped from her bed and strode across the cold floor to what remained of the fire. She held in her hands... a cat? It stared up at her with baleful eyes that caught the last of the firelight. A loud hiss revealed sharp, white teeth.

"Well, hey there, kitty," she murmured as she loosened her grip ever so slightly. "Where did you come from?"

"Clearly, I'm here for the cheese," it deadpanned.

Marinette dropped it in shock. The cat hissed again as it landed, then took off into the darkness. Marinette shook her head. She had to be dreaming. She looked down at herself in the dim light of the embers. Definitely a dream. She crawled back under her blankets, shivering until they warmed with her body heat, and quickly fell back asleep.

The next morning, Marinette opened her eyes to find a significant portion of her Gallic cheese missing. Apparently the cat hadn't been a dream. She sighed, then paused. The cheese was ruined, but maybe she still had a use for it. She set about making a plan for her uninvited guest.

Ladybug reluctantly told Adrien what had happened to his gift when she saw him later in the day. She didn't tell him the part about the cat talking to her. He seemed more annoyed than she thought was warranted for an accident that wasn't her fault.

"You said it was a cat? What kind of cat?" he asked, one eyebrow drawing down in irritation.

"I don't know; it was dark. Black, maybe. Bright green eyes."

Adrien sighed, then relaxed his expression. "Sorry that happened to you. I'll bring some of mine over later, so you can at least try it."

Ladybug laughed, "It's not like it was your fault, Adrien."

"No, of course not," he agreed, looking away down the embellished hall they stood in.

A well-dressed servant with a pinched expression walked up and stood at a respectful distance. Ladybug still wasn't used to that kind of consideration, but Adrien took it in stride as he deliberately finished his sentence and then gave the man his attention.

"Your presence and participation are most respectfully requested by Emperor Hawkmoth," the man began, reciting with clipped precision, "in an exhibition match on the final night of Saturnalia against a mystery opponent known only as Chat Blanc. Upon your acceptance of the request, the time and location of the match will be determined at the Emperor's pleasure."

Ladybug’s mouth dropped open before she could stop herself, but Adrien stayed calm, not a hair or twitch of expression out of place.

"Please convey my utmost gratitude to Emperor Hawkmoth for the opportunity to be of service," he replied smoothly. "I await his instruction."

The servant stared down at Adrien loftily, then nodded, apparently satisfied. He went back the way he’d come, his crisp tunic and cloak drawn close around him.

"Chat Blanc?" Ladybug spluttered as soon as the servant was out of earshot. "Do you know who that is?"

Adrien shook his head, equally mystified. "Some special champion of Emperor Hawkmoth's? Where would he have been keeping him all this time?"

"Maybe it's a noble kid wanting to play in the arena. Or a fan of yours. At least we know it's not to the death. That would be awkward." Marinette shrugged and wrinkled her nose.

"I... am sure declining the invitation wasn't an option, but for a fight to the death I would have considered it. Going in blind against someone you haven't observed is a really bad idea." Adrien frowned, then released the expression with a careless shrug. "Actually, this sounds kind of fun."

Ladybug sighed and shook her head.

That evening, they skipped the _cena_ , instead retiring to Ladybug’s room. They laughed and chatted as they carried food and drink from the kitchen, until she opened her door.

"Shh!" Ladybug whispered as the sound of a furious scuffle reached her ears.

"What is that?" Adrien whispered back.

He looked ready to throw the tray in his hands, dinner or no.

"I think my trap worked!" Ladybug laughed.

She put her things down by the door and squatted next to an overturned box that contained something spitting and angry. She tapped the top of the box with authority. The creature inside immediately calmed down. Ladybug lifted the old crate, and Adrien wasn't surprised to see Plagg sulking underneath.

"It's been two hours," he grumped. "I finished the rest of that cheese ages ago. Were you just going to let me rot?"

"You little pain in the ass, I knew I heard you talk!" Ladybug exclaimed.

Adrien resisted the intense urge to study the walls in silence. Then he resisted a second urge to throttle Plagg. Ladybug turned, oblivious to her partner's discomfiture.

"You heard it talk too, right? I'm not crazy?"

Adrien cleared his throat. "Um, yeah. I mean, no!"

Plagg took advantage of her brief moment of inattention and darted away, back through whatever small hidey-holes and pathways he'd found between their two rooms. Adrien breathed a quiet sigh of relief as Ladybug cursed in frustration.

"Oh, well," she relented. "A mystery for another day... when I have more cheese as bait."


	11. Which Chat to Choose?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat Noir fights Chat Blanc. Ladybug receives shocking information.

On the last day of Saturnalia, Chat Noir parted ways with Ladybug a few hours before his mysterious exhibition match. Someone (he suspected the haughty servant of the previous day) had made sure his weapons and armor were brought from Ludus Magnus to his room in the Emperor's palace. A neat bundle of leather and steel awaited him atop the table next to his door. He belted on his loincloth, then set about pulling on his other gear.

Plagg landed neatly on the table from wherever he'd been hiding just as Chat Noir tied on his recently-acquired mask.

"You still irritated, or what?" The black cat affected indifference, dipping his head to lick at an imaginary speck on his tail.

"Maybe a little," Chat Noir admitted candidly. "You let yourself get caught, and now I'm not sure whether to lie for you or just tell Marinette all about you."

Plagg gave the cat equivalent of a shrug. "How much does it matter to you? She's got secrets of her own, you know. I don't think she's in any hurry to betray yours."

"You have a point. More importantly, I got my mater to make that cheese for her, and then you ate it."

"I can't fight my nature; it's best just to give in. Especially when there's food involved."

Chat Noir sighed, annoyed. "You're a pest. Claws out, Plagg."

Before the small cat could say another word, his magic conjured him away. He managed a lingering hiss that echoed around the room, voicing his displeasure. Relieved, Chat Noir headed down to the palace gates where his ride awaited him. The winter evening chilled the cobblestones beneath his feet. He wished Ladybug were with him, but she had a special seat in one of the Emperor's boxes, so he knew where to look for her before the fight began.

He wasn't exactly pleased that his last night in the Emperor's lavish palace would be a "work” night. One more boisterous _cena_ , or even one more quiet evening with Ladybug would have been better. He was curious about the mysterious Chat Blanc, however. Why would the Emperor pit him against the man? Who could Chat Blanc possibly be? Would he recognize him when he stepped out on the sand?

The ride to the Flavian Amphitheatre was short, despite streets crowded with happy, drunk pedestrians. Chat Noir took the servant's entrance, as usual. He could hear the assembled crowd laughing, getting warmed up for the real fight. He checked in with Nathalie, then sat down quietly to wait his turn.

He was deep in a daydream when one of Nathalie's lackeys poked him hard in the shoulder.

"You're on! Go! Go!" the man hissed.

Chat Noir stood and strode out confidently when he was announced. The crowd roared for him as he waved. He glanced over to one of the reserved boxes and saw Ladybug, arms up and fists pumping to cheer him on. His smile went from staged to sincere. The spectators quieted at a gesture from the announcer. 

"Opposing our favorite hero tonight, we have a new challenger. A man with no home and no history. A man who claims to have the skill to best Chat Noir." The announcer paused dramatically as the crowd booed and hissed. "A man who goes only by the moniker... Chat Blanc!"

Chat Noir stared at the man who walked squarely out of the door and bore down on him, smiling haughtily despite the displeasure of the crowd. He was tall, about an inch taller than Chat Noir. Remarkably, he was also blonde. Astonishingly, he wore a white mask and two white baltei over either shoulder that mirrored Chat Noir's own. His polished silver greaves flashed in the torchlight of the arena. His bleached white leather ears were secured jauntily atop his thick hair.

The two men drew closer to each other, but stopped about ten feet apart. Chat Noir gave the man an appraising look.

"Nice costume," he complimented.

"Thanks," the other man said simply, and then they both drew their swords.

Chat Blanc attempted to put Chat Noir on the defensive immediately, swiping at him with both sabers, but Chat Noir quickly brought up one sword to block the motion. The crash of angry steel rang out loudly across the amphitheatre.

Chat Noir reversed his stance and aimed a thrust directly at Chat Blanc's heart. Perhaps if the man though Chat Noir meant to kill him, he would slip up and retreat. Chat Blanc proved to be made of sterner stuff, however. His own sword flicked the thrust to one side, his body barely moving and his feet planted in the sand.

Chat Noir took a moment to regroup. He'd never fought against another _dimacherius_. The pairing was highly unusual. And Chat Blanc clearly knew his stuff, even though he'd never fought in the amphitheatres of Rome before. Chat Noir would have to get creative to win this round.

 

Ladybug gripped the edge of her seat, spellbound by the match below. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but certainly not this! Chat Blanc was actually very good, she had to admit. She watched as the two men circled each other, dual blades drawn, testing for weaknesses and finding none.

Fleetingly, she wondered if Emperor Hawkmoth was enjoying the match he'd arranged. She glanced up at the Emperor's box. He was relaxed, a small smile playing across his lips as he observed the actions of the two gladiators below. Beside him, however, Felix was apparently less than impressed. 

Ladybug stared indignantly for a moment at the top of the man's bowed blond head. She could almost hear a snore issuing from his mouth. He was so deeply asleep he was bent almost double in the chair. Why had he even bothered to come? He'd already said he didn't like gladiator bouts in the one conversation she'd ever had with him.

Had he been out at Emperor Hawkmoth's villa the whole week of Saturnalia? Felix seemed too sophisticated to waste his time in the country when the city's various celebrations beckoned. He hadn’t been at the palace, however. Unless he had an alternate residence in the city, he must have gone with his father.

Ladybug turned back to the match with a sniff. The man wasn't entirely repugnant, but he was certainly rude and off-putting. She fixed her attention on her partner.

 

Down in the arena, Chat Noir was almost certain he was wearing Chat Blanc down. Almost. Except the man never quite let his guard down or lowered a sword. Or took a knee, or stepped back, or indicated in any way that he was growing tired. Chat Noir could feel the eyes of the spectators boring into his back. He was sweating, even in the chilly air. Years of experience had taught him that when a gladiator started to lose the crowd, it's all downhill from there.

Chat Noir executed a dizzying spin that turned his blades into a horizontal gale force. The gambit paid off. The clash of steel on steel told him he'd hit his mark before he stopped moving. One of Chat Blanc's swords flipped out of his hand and arced away out of sight. The man still defended staunchly with a single saber, but his lack of a shield left him wide open to attack.

Chat Noir lunged in with a roar, pressing his advantage. Somehow, things went wrong and he found his own left hand rattled with a hard knock, his sword slipping from nerveless fingers into the dust. Huh. He flexed his fingers and shook them out, trying to regain sensation. That was new.

He and Chat Blanc continued as equals again, sabers hefted in their right hands. The crowd murmured in renewed interest as the pair circled. Their bare feet sent up puffs of dust barely visible in the firelight.

"So what brings you to the Flavian Amphitheatre?" Chat Noir asked, keeping his tone light and bored.

Chat Blanc straightened briefly, then relaxed back into a fighting stance. "Well, I've seen you do this so many times. It looked pretty easy. I thought I'd give it a shot." The masked man's upper lip lifted in a light sneer.

"Ah," replied Chat Noir, unperturbed. "And how do you find it?"

He lunged as he asked, curtailing Chat Blanc's response as he grazed the other man's loin cloth at the hip, lightly tearing the fabric. He could tell he'd finally managed to surprise Chat Blanc. The other man swiped his blade down and away to knock Chat Noir's sword aside, but he lost his own grip as well and the two swords clattered to the ground in a heap.

Chat Noir flicked his gaze to the swords, but he knew neither of them would chance diving to retrieve one. The exposure was too risky. Instead, he bent his knees and leaned forward slightly at the waist, holding both arms out in a wrestler's stance.

"Shall we continue?" he asked politely.

A trumpet sounded on Chat Noir's left, suddenly ending the match. Chat Blanc immediately turned his head to the sound. _Ah_. That revealed him more than anything else he'd done that night, thought Chat Noir. An experienced gladiator knew to listen but never look away until he was sure the fight was over. An angry opponent could kill you in a split second, referees or no.

Chat Noir stood up straight and turned toward Emperor Hawkmoth's booth as the fanfare ended. The Ageless Emperor stood at the front of the box, smiling benevolently down at the crowds before him.

"Chat Noir and Chat Blanc, it has been a pleasure to observe your competition," Hawkmoth orated in smooth, cultured tones. "It has long been our delight to admire the skill and athleticism of the gladiator, and to encourage the fair play and sport of your profession. In this match, I pronounce the result a tie. You have both proven your excellence beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"In allowing an unknown to enter your domain this evening, I have alluded to the presence of an unknown in my own rarified sphere. A personage of great dignity and honor, whose recent transfer to Rome has remained a secret until this, the last day of Saturnalia.

"My fellow citizens, it brings me joy to inform you that I am to be married, in a union that will bring with it a new era of peace and prosperity for the Empire. I introduce to you tonight my future bride, Princess Bridgette of Dupania."

Hawkmoth gestured grandly and a demure woman in a white tunic stepped forward into a swell of enthusiastic cheers. She tilted her chin upward and a pale face, framed by dark tresses, caught the torchlight of Hawkmoth's booth. Chat Noir felt his blood freeze and his stomach drop into the ground. The woman next to Hawkmoth...was _Marinette?_

He glanced quickly over to Ladybug, who was still in her guest box. She stood rigid, and Chat Noir could see that she was shaking, her hands clenched tightly to her sides. He looked back at the woman next to Hawkmoth, his mind slightly boggled as he teased the puzzle out.

No, the woman wasn't Marinette, not truly. Her face was somehow softer, her limbs willowy under her tunic, not hard with muscle. Her hair convinced him. This woman's wispy dark hair flowed long past her shoulders, just like Marinette's, but she had no bangs cut across her forehead.

He turned back to Ladybug just in time to see her retreating from the stands. A final glance at Hawkmoth's booth, and he could see the moment of celebration had passed. The occupants were gathering their belongings as trumpeters blew fanfares. Chat Blanc had quit the arena as mysteriously as he had entered. Chat Noir did his level best not to break into a flat run to get out and get to Ladybug.

 

Marinette was a muttering, sobbing mess when Adrien found her in her room at Ludus Magnus. Tikki fluttered nearby, her glowing form translucent in the darkness of the room.

“Help her, Adrien,” she pleaded.

He gaped at her. “I don’t know what to-”

“Help her. Please.”

Impelled by the goddess’ words, he wrapped both arms around Marinette and held her tight as she cried, tears streaming from her closed eyes. She shuddered in his arms, fighting an internal battle about which he could gather only the barest clues. She seemed hardly aware he was there.

"Shhhh..." Adrien whispered, one hand reaching up to stroke her midnight hair. "Shhhhh, it'll be all right."

Marinette's shoulders felt brittle against his biceps, fragile like ocean-washed seashells. She hadn't moved a muscle since he had entered her room. Her whole being was taut as a bowstring.

"Tikki -" he muttered over Marinette's head.

"Let go, Marinette," the goddess whispered.

Her words tickled like a breath against both their ears.

A few more minutes of hot tears that splashed down on his chest, and then something shifted. On the end of a long sigh, Marinette melted into his resolute embrace. He felt her body relax entirely as her tears ceased. She wrapped her delicate hands around his back as she sniffed and settled her cheek against his shoulder. Adrien tucked her head under his chin, feeling tiny shivers ease as she calmed down.

"Adrien, I'm so sor-" she began, but he cut her off.

"No, don't be. You're hurt. I'm here." His mind reeled with questions, but he bit them back.

"I owe you an explanation," Marinette said, her voice rough from crying.

Adrien shifted slightly, pulling her in even closer. She sounded so lost. His heart broke for her. He wanted to fight, to slay dragons, to break bones for her, but she didn't need a champion. She needed a friend.

He eased them both down onto the edge of her bed, reluctantly releasing his hold on her. At the sight of her puffy red eyes and sorrowful little frown, he couldn't help but reach back over and take her hand in his. Marinette leaned into the dip between his shoulder and his chest, tucking herself against him. He tried to control the flutter in his stomach as she looked up at him, her face only inches away.

"Please don't leave," she said in a small voice.

"It's the furthest thing from my mind," Adrien murmured, flicking a stray strand of hair from her eyes.

He leaned over and swiped a folded scrap of cloth from Marinette's table. He handed it to her and she dabbed neatly at her eyes, sniffling again as she attempted to compose herself. Adrien couldn't hold himself in check any longer.

"Who is she?" The question burst from him, his quiet tone making it all the more sharp.

Marinette worried the ragged edge of her cloth for a long minute. She sighed, and Adrien was relieved to hear a slight sardonic edge return to her voice as she answered.

"Princess Bridgette is my sister."

Adrien sat back, digesting her words. They didn’t make any sense. He started with the basics.

"You have a sister."

Marinette's quavering smile betrayed a bit of resurfacing humor. "Yeah. My twin, in fact."

"You mentioned your mother once, but not a sister."

"I know. I'm sorry. I've been putting my family behind me for so long..."

"Your sister is a princess. So that means _you_ are a princess. You're royalty?"

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he remembered all his overly familiar interactions with the young woman he now stared at, shocked. He'd seen her every day for nearly a year, and never once guessed. Never. The puzzle pieces continued to drop in.

"You read, you write. Your manners with the senator and then Hawkmoth were perfect. How did I not put any of this together?"

Marinette's rueful chuckle answered him as she shook her head.

"Adrien, who would ever believe that a top-notch female gladiator could also be a princess? It's too fantastic - for any country other than Dupania. I know you only got a glimpse of Bridgette, but trust me, she could acquit herself in the arena just as well as I do. At least, she could when we were fifteen." Her smile crumpled as fresh tears welled up. "Six years... I thought - I thought I'd never see her again. Never."

Adrien took the cloth she clutched and pressed it to her tears as they spilled over. 

"What happened six years ago?” he asked. “How did you end up a gladiator? A slave? Was Dupania attacked or something?"

Back in Gaul, he might have heard vague news of an event like that, but he had to admit that young, bored Adrien would never have cared about far-flung countries and territories to the east of the Empire. 

Marinette laughed again and he caught the bitter edge of the sound. "No, but it felt like an attack. My father arranged a marriage for me. I'm the elder sister; first princess of Dupania. I was raised knowing that a political marriage was likely my future. What do you know about Dupania?"

Adrien shrugged. "Not much. I know the lands produce a lot of wheat. That's the main export, right?"

Marinette nodded. "The territory is very wealthy. It's also small. We're a tempting target for any country or empire in need of a bountiful food source. As a result, we're also a soldier state. From childhood, every citizen is taught several forms of combat - including the princesses. Some of our people go on to agriculture, some to military - and some of us are slated for diplomacy and policy, whatever form it might take.

"When the time came for me," she continued, a blush lighting up her cheeks, "I got a look at the old man they were matching me with to seal a treaty... and I ran away that night. I left Bridgette a note saying I was sorry, but I never said even a word to my parents. I let them down and I abandoned her."

Adrien's heart squeezed at the deep guilt her words evidenced. He wanted to tell her that he understood. That he had also chafed against being a pawn in someone else's machinations. Instead, he put one arm around her shoulders in a gentle hug, encouraging her to continue.

"I took Tikki's statue with me; it was a silly impulse, but it saved my life. I made it out into the desert. I hid for weeks, trying to figure out what to do next. But I got picked up by a nomadic group; there were too many of them, and I couldn't fight my way out.

"I was so afraid then, Adrien. I didn't know what the life of a slave was like, what they might make me do. I prayed and prayed... and Tikki answered. She made me strong. Strong enough to fight, to protect myself as they forced me to travel with them. We reached a small town on the eastern edge of the Empire and that's when my captors had a new idea. The town had a gladiator arena, where small-time fighters competed to make a name for themselves and win prize money.

"I had no trouble winning my matches, thanks to Tikki. A wealthy merchant on a business trip bought me from the nomads and took me to Carnuntum. That was my first _ludus_. By then, I'd come to the conclusion that revealing my identity would at best cause a ransom attempt and at worst get me killed. I started wearing the mask and drawing ladybug spots on my arms and legs to distinguish myself as a gladiator."

"Why a ladybug?" Adrien interrupted, curious.

Marinette’s smile turned warm. “Ladybugs protect the crops in Dupania from pestilential insects. They’re beautiful, I think.”

“That they are,” Adrien agreed softly, looking into her eyes.

For an unguarded moment, she stared back, dismay giving way to a bright flush of pink on her cheeks. Then her eyes shuttered and she straightened, Adrien’s arm slipping off of her back. He sighed inwardly as she reclaimed her hand and smoothed her face into determined calm. 

“At some point, you were brought to Rome," he prompted as she shifted slightly away from him, leaving only cooling air where she had been pressed against his side.

"The businessman gifted me to Emperor Hawkmoth to curry favor. That was only a year or so ago."

"And since then, you've taken Rome by storm. You didn't try to keep a lower profile?"

Marinette sighed in exasperation. "A woman's options are either/or. Either I'm the best and I get the best contract and the best treatment, or I'm at the mercy of any domineering _lanista_ that comes along. Nathalie is cutthroat. I knew if I didn't perform, I could end up in all sorts of unsavory arrangements. It's better to save all my battles for the arena, if I can."

They lapsed into silence. Adrien stifled a yawn as the cold night finally sank into his battle-weary bones. Once again, he'd given no thought to his attire as he raced to his Lady's side. His bare feet were blocks of ice. A sudden shiver overtook him.

"Oh, Kitty, look at you." Marinette murmured sympathetically. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's no pro-oo-blem," he managed as another unstoppable yawn overtook him.

"No, you'll catch a cold if you stay like this." She rose, pulling her thick, wool blanket with her.

She settled it around his shoulders and knelt to untie his greaves. He had pulled off his swords earlier and thrown them down on her chair. He sighed as a few more shivers warmed him inside the blanket, sleepiness overtaking him. 

“I have to get her out of there,” Marinette muttered as she undid the last knot.

"What?"

"Not tonight. But soon. She doesn't want to marry Hawkmoth." Marinette glanced up into his face, her expression fierce.

"You can't know that, Marinette. She came to Rome willingly. And a lot changes in six years. She may not be the same as you remember."

"I have to at least talk to her. I need to make sure she's alright."

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "You'd be risking a lot... you know what? Let's talk about it tomorrow. I can't help you solve this tonight."

Marinette nodded agreement with a frustrated sigh. Adrien was glad to see the snap back in her eyes, even though he feared her determination was misplaced. He had no doubt that his sisters would remember him with affection and would gladly reunite, but he wasn't anxious to see any of his older brothers again. It wasn’t easy to forgive the gulf in status that resulted from becoming a gladiator.

Adrien shook himself and looked up at Marinette, who was watching him expectantly. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"You're falling asleep sitting up, Adrien. I... why don't you bed down here for the night? I'm not ready to sleep yet anyway. You rest, and I'll sit in the chair, and... that way I won't be alone?"

Adrien caught the odd sense of fear that permeated her tone, the glint in her eyes. He didn't like it, and he wouldn't have said no in any case. He nodded and some of the tension left Marinette's body. He settled down into her bed and lifted the blanket over himself as Marinette considerately extinguished her candle. He had almost fallen asleep when a thought struck him.

 _She trusts me_ , he marveled, eyes open in the pitch black. Ladybug trusted him. The fascinating stranger that had captivated him from his first day in Ludus Magnus was known to him now. Whether by Fate or her own decision, Marinette had let him into her world, entrusted him with her hopes, depended on him to guard her secrets. Well, he wouldn't let her down. He slipped into sleep with his heart full.


	12. Trespassing on Palace Grounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette and Adrien hatch a plan to break into the palace.

In the morning, Marinette tried to quietly extricate herself from a very warm and very muscular embrace. She'd lain down in the narrow bed long after Adrien's snores started reverberating around the room, but soon discovered that even in his sleep, the man was a snuggler. After her fifth attempt to push him away had resulted in him draping a heavy arm over her midsection, she'd given in. On the other hand, it was the warmest she'd slept since Tikki had stopped helping her after her poisoning.

She wriggled her foot out from between Adrien's shins, freezing when his fingers suddenly twitched. She cast a glance back at his face in the dim gray of the room. His eyes were still closed. Good. Now for the hard part.

She poured her feet and legs forward from the edge of her bed onto the floor, trying not to shake her rickety cot frame. With her body halfway free, she tried to slip gracefully out of his grasp. Before she could do so, Adrien's hand tightened on her arm. Marinette found herself caught with her back awkwardly bent against the cot frame, her knees almost to the floor, but her torso still partially in the bed. She looked back again, this time into amused, sleepy eyes that glowed in the half light. Her stomach curled up to match the small smile on his lips.

"What are you doing?" he murmured.

"Trying not to wake you," Marinette muttered back.

He smiled and closed his eyes, tugging hard at her arm. Before she could resist, she was pulled back into her bed. Adrien reestablished his station as the big spoon, folding Marinette securely in his arms. His breath puffed out in a sigh against the back of her neck.

“We should try the garden wall,” he said, his voice thick with sleep.

“What?” Marinette replied. _He must be dreaming,_ she thought to herself.

“Hawkmoth’s palace. To go visit Bridgette. We’ll go over the garden wall.”

“Oh.”

That was… actually a really good idea. There was a shadowy copse adjacent to a low portion of the stone wall; Marinette had explored the whole garden during the week of Saturnalia. It would be easy to scale and remain undetected, dropping in behind the trees.

“Go back to sleep. We’ll figure it out. I promise.” Adrien’s voice was a half-whisper that tickled her ear. To her own surprise, she did.

Upon the extinction of the sun’s final rays, a figure in a dark cloak dismounted and led an unremarkable horse to a featureless spot along the back wall of the palace gardens. He handed the reins to a plain-looking person that no one had noticed standing in the shadows for hours. The person withdrew both hands from her cloak and loosely tied the reins to a small but sturdy shrub. At that point, both people seemed to disappear, leaving their bored horse hidden beneath the sheltering branches of a large tree growing over the stone wall.

Without a sound, Ladybug and Chat Noir alit upon the top of the stone wall, hidden from view by the close-growing branches of an old tree. They descended in a synchronized leap, their cloaks billowing behind them. Here, in the heart of his empire, Hawkmoth still posted a perimeter guard, but the thicket they stood in was a mess of branches and undergrowth, difficult for a soldier to break through and a deterrent for most trespassers.

Ladybug had waited and listened outside all day, timing the guards and their rounds and comparing it to her memories from the previous week. Now they had a small window to reach the palace without detection. Plagg had given Chat Noir his night vision, but he couldn’t figure out how Ladybug effortlessly passed through the tugging brambles and tiny twigs that pulled at his dark cloak. She had traded her spotted red mask for a black one similar to his own. Only a thin, pale stripe of cheeks and chin remained visible within her dark covering.

They darted through the dark garden, slipping from shadow to shadow until they reached a quiet porch lit with a single remaining torch. Its meager light threw flickering illumination between tall columns onto a manicured grassy lawn. A familiar clumping jingle could be heard through the arched entry at one end.

“Hide!” hissed Ladybug, throwing herself against the dark side of a column that faced outward to the garden.

Chat Noir pasted himself against solid stone, holding his breath as two uniformed guards passed under the covered porch. Their solid, unhurried footsteps clapped against the cobblestone porch barely three feet from where he and Ladybug stood hidden. The men passed, taking the dying torch with them.

Ladybug and Chat Noir crept forward on silent feet and entered the palace through the archway. They stayed away from the familiar areas of the palace where they’d spent time during Saturnalia. Instead, Ladybug led them deeper into a maze of hallways and rooms Chat Noir didn’t recognize.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Chat Noir whispered as they stopped at a corner to peer carefully around into the next hallway.

“Not exactly,” Ladybug replied, “but I wandered the halls a lot and this is the only one I don’t know. And I think Tikki knows where to take us. She’s pulling me along. Maybe she senses Bridgette.”

The pair stole furtively into the next hallway, aimed unerringly for an ornate door at the opposite end.

"I think this is it."

The door at the end of the hall opened then, and both Ladybug and Chat Noir tried to dart to one side, but there was nowhere to go as the blond head of Felix emerged. He did a double-take when he saw the masked pair, then gritted his teeth in anger.

"Thieves!" Felix shouted. "Guards! Guards!!"

" _Merda_ ," Chat Noir said, grabbing Ladybug's hand.

He turned to run, but several guards were already gathered at the other end of the hallway.

"No! Bridgette!" cried Ladybug. She could see the young woman standing in the room, startled blue eyes peeking out at them. Felix slammed the sturdy door behind him.

He advanced with surprising menace on one side as the guards came forward, spears out, from the other.

"Thieves... or kidnappers?" he mused, a dangerous glint in his eye. "What do you want with Princess Bridgette?"

"Come on!" Chat Noir yelled, yanking Ladybug back down the hall.

She took a last look at the door, and then the pair ran toward the guards, executing an unbelievable leap right over their heads. They kept running, reversing course through the palace. Guards seemed to find them at every junction, spilling into view just a heartbeat behind them.

"We can make it out of here; no one knows who we are," Chat Noir panted.

"But Bridgette..." the pain in Ladybug's voice pulled at his heart.

He turned his head to look at her, and crashed into a solid mountain of armor and muscle that materialized out of nowhere. Dazed, Chat Noir bounced off of an absolutely gigantic man in soldier's attire and fell to the floor.

The man smirked and cracked his knuckles in his fist. Ladybug stepped forward in front of her partner.

"Me first," she insisted, looking up at the brute.

Unfortunately, the man was fast as well as huge. He sent one bell-ringing crack across Ladybug's face - a blow that would have broken bones if Tikki hadn't strengthened her. She staggered back, stunned, and that was all it took. A stream of guards poured into the hallway behind the duo as the giant blocked their exit. The men piled onto Chat Noir and gripped Ladybug's arms and legs as she struggled.

The giant guard came to attention at a gentle tap on his arm. He stepped aside to reveal Emperor Hawkmoth in sleeping robes, followed by an impressive retinue. Ladybug stopped struggling. Several guards shoved Chat Noir roughly to his feet, only to force him to kneel in front of the Emperor. Ladybug took one knee beside him.

"What is going on here?" the Emperor asked, his voice low and cold.

Felix entered the space, panting lightly, and strode to his father's side.

"Kidnappers, Father. They nearly made it all the way to Princess Bridgette's quarters."

Emperor Hawkmoth raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Kidnapping a member of the royal family? That would be treason, I think," he mused softly, looking down into Ladybug's eyes.

"She's not a member yet," Ladybug growled.

Chat Noir shook his head in a single gesture at her. _Shut up_. They were screwed, well and truly screwed, unless he could figure out some way to shake loose... or convince them...he sighed inwardly, at a loss. Even Plagg couldn't get him out of this one. Hawkmoth stood in front of Ladybug, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Hold her securely. We don’t know what she’s capable of." The guards tightened their grips on her thin wrists.

Ladybug bared her teeth as Hawkmoth drew close and tugged her mask away, his lips quirking slightly upward. Felix visibly started when her face was revealed, as did several of the others accompanying the Emperor. Emperor Hawkmoth stared down at her as though she were a curious insect.

“But I just saw… she’s sitting in her room at this very moment…” stammered Felix.

The Ageless Emperor gently waved the mask under Felix's nose and a sudden, incredulous look of recognition registered in his eyes.

"This is Ladybug? She looks just like Princess Bridgette!"

Emperor Hawkmoth smirked and nodded.

“I've had my suspicions for some time. Marinette of Dupania, long lost daughter of their king and long presumed dead. How did you ever sink so low?” He sniffed and turned from her, dropping her mask into the hands of one of his entourage.

"Put her in a cell," he called over his shoulder as he glided away. "Throw her little cat in, too."

Chat Noir's mask was ripped from his face. He caught a glimpse of Felix's gleeful sneer before he was wrestled away down the hall and toward the entrance of the palace. Marinette, stripped of both mask and cloak, straightened as the guards took her by her arms and tied her hands behind her back.

Adrien watched her out of the corner of his eye for a signal. Surely they would try to run? But no, she held her head up proudly now that her mask was gone. All the world could see her true face. What started as a shameful unveiling of two criminals on the grounds of the palace quickly became a dignified procession, despite their restraints.

They could hear gasps as palace inhabitants peeped out of rooms to see what the fuss was about. Adrien understood the gravity of the situation, but he almost smiled. He sobered as they were loaded up onto a dirty cart and driven away.

A short time later, the pair were shoved unceremoniously into a dark, wet cell with iron bars and a small window on the outskirts of Rome. One guard roughly sawed the strips of cloth binding from their hands with a knife, then exited and locked them in. He rattled the gate to test its security, laughed, and walked away. Once they were alone, Marinette slumped against the wall, then slid down to the floor and pillowed her head on her knees. Adrien crossed the small, dark space and did likewise, coming to sit beside her.

With a heavy sigh, Marinette rested her head on his shoulder. "I can't believe I screwed this up so bad. We're dead. We're worse than dead. They'll torture us first. I'm so sorry, Adrien." Her voice cracked on the last word and she sniffed back her tears.

"You didn't screw it up, _we_ screwed it up. My idea to go over the garden wall, remember? We didn’t have much of an exit plan. Who could have known Felix would be there, anyway? That guy is just plain - he's unpredictable."

He felt his own heart cheered by Marinette's weak laugh. "So we can agree that Felix screwed it up. You know he was sleeping during your match with Chat Blanc? That was like the best fight I'd seen all year, and he was snoozing it up in the prime seat. Spoiled brat."

"You thought that was a good fight?"

"Yeah, I did. Hawkmoth was right to call it, though. You two would have gone on until someone lost an arm or an eye."

They sat in silence together for a few minutes. Marinette stared up at their miniscule window and shivered as the cold of the stones sank into her. She pointed and Adrien leaned close to get a better angle.

"I can see the moon from where I am. Do you see it? I wish I were the moon. I'd be free..." she turned her head as she spoke and stopped short when she saw how near his face was.

The liquid moonlight reflected in her blue eyes enveloped Adrien. Before she could pull away, he pressed his mouth softly against her lower lip, leaving a gentle kiss there. He paused, eyes closed, waiting for her to lean back or push him. All he heard was silence. And then, with the brief softness of a gossamer wing, he felt her lips touch his.

He breathed in her sweet scent as he leaned into the kiss, placing his hands on either side of her face. He wiped away her tears with his thumbs, kissed her closed eyelids, the tip of her nose, her lovely chin. Now that she had kissed him - _she had kissed him!_ \- Adrien felt a swell of love and desire so strong he could hardly hold it back.

Marinette returned the kisses ardently, but as he swept his lips across her brow, he could feel it furrow. She sniffed again and choked back a quiet sob. Adrien tilted her chin with one finger to find her face twisted with barely repressed sorrow. Without a word, he pulled her onto his lap in a firm embrace, kissing away the salt tears that wouldn’t stop flowing.


	13. Keep Your Friends Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien has an interview with the Emperor. Marinette and Bridgette are reunited. Plagg has a complaint.

The pair woke from where they lay in dirty straw at the sound of a thick key in the rusty metal lock of their cell door. Marinette had somehow ended up wedged between Adrien and the wall. She sat up, stiff and cold, pulling scratchy bits of straw out of the neck of her tunic. Adrien rubbed his neck and circled one shoulder, trying to release the taut muscles there. She plucked straw off of him, too.

A small figure wearing a cloak stood in the doorway, barely visible in the still-dark prison. It came forward, hesitant, as the two watched. A small hand pulled back the hood of the cloak to reveal Bridgette, her mouth drawn in a small frown and her luminous eyes wide.

"Bridgette!" Marinette cried, standing quickly and starting toward the other woman. She hesitated at the last second, but Bridgette closed the distance between them and wrapped her sister in a tight hug.

"Marinette...my sister..." she breathed, clutching Marinette with an intensity that belied her small frame. Adrien watched, bemused, as the two clung to each other, tears of mingled sadness and joy flowing freely. 

He inspected Bridgette's face in the little light available. It honestly was like having two Ladybugs in the room with him. _He_ would never be fooled; he knew his Lady's features too well, but the pair could easily switch places. Bridgette wasn't quite as soft as his first impression of her had seemed. Whatever life she'd been living for the past six years, it hadn't been without its trials.

They finally released each other, but their hands remained linked as they sat on the cold floor in a circle with Adrien.

"Adrien Agreste," Bridgette greeted him with a nod.

"Guilty," he ventured with a smile.

The joke fell flat with both women. He sighed. No one appreciated the value of humor in a dire situation.

"How did you find us?" Marinette asked, rubbing her arms and legs to warm herself.

Bridgette jumped up and went back to the entrance of the cell, returning with two blankets in her arms. "Sorry, I forgot those for a moment. Ah. Felix told me where you were."

" _Felix?_ " Marinette and Adrien chorused in surprise as they wrapped the generous blankets around themselves.

"Yes. He's been very kind to me since I arrived in Rome."

Marinette quirked an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound at all like Felix."

"I think there may be more to him than you know," Bridgette shot back. "When I found out you were the cause for all the commotion, he did everything he could to try and calm me down. I wouldn't rest until I knew where you were. I-" her voice cracked suddenly and she swallowed before continuing, "I grieved for you, Sister. You're - you _were_ \- dead. And now I come to Rome, and you're a celebrity? You couldn't tell your family? You couldn't tell me?" Bridgette's face flushed as words of anger and pain poured out.

Marinette shrugged helplessly. "I want to say I'm sorry, but it's not enough. I made the wrong choice. I've been paying for it for six years. I was afraid, Bridgette. I thought maybe... maybe if I bought my freedom, came back on my own terms, I would be able to make things right. I haven’t seen you in so long. Please, please forgive me, Sister. I'm so sorry I hurt you."

Bridgette took a deep breath and expelled it in a gusty sigh. Her anger receded as quickly as it had surfaced.

"I think it's going to take more than one conversation, but I do want to forgive you. We need to make sure you live through this first, though."

Adrien cleared his throat. "I like where you put your priorities. Any ideas? We're fresh out."

Bridgette drew her legs up and pillowed her head on her knees. "I'll advocate for you to my betrothed, of course. I think it's fairly clear you weren't trying to kidnap me at this point, since you’re my own family. You weren't, were you?"

"Not unless you wanted to be kidnapped," Marinette said carefully. "Mostly I just wanted to talk."

"I - no, Marinette. I'm here for our people. Did you think I wanted out of this marriage arrangement?"

"Sister, do you love him?"

"That's irrelevant," Bridgette sniffed. "I love Dupania. Marrying the Emperor ensures Dupania's autonomy and strengthens its position as a partner in trade.”

"You sound like Father," groaned Marinette, rolling her eyes.

Bridgette opened her mouth to deliver a tart reply, but a new voice interrupted them.

"Princess Bridgette," said Felix, startling them all, "It's time for you to return to the palace."

“But I just arrived! I’ve barely said five words to her,” Bridgette protested.

"He came with you?" asked Adrien, surprised.

"No, I'm here to recall her, and to bring you back as well. Father wants an interview with his favorite lowly gladiator."

Felix leaned casually against the gate, arms folded over his chest. His voice seemed familiar, but Adrien couldn't quite place it. He eyed Felix as he stood, but the taller man's know-it-all smirk never wavered.

"Do you need restraining, or can I trust you to come all the way to the palace?"

Adrien bristled at the implication that he was a common criminal. "I’ll come willingly. You don't need to worry."

Marinette was nonplussed at the realization she'd be left alone in the dank cell. Adrien reached down and squeezed her hand tightly. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Just sit tight."

"I can't exactly do anything else, can I?" she murmured.

She watched the three of them go through the locked bars and felt truly alone. Tikki had been forced to abandon her during the night, her mystical protection exhausted after their acrobatic antics in the palace. She couldn't even bring food to the little goddess, since Tikki's effigy remained in Marinette's room.

Marinette jumped up and paced a bit, wrapping herself more tightly in the blanket. She stood on tiptoe to peer out of the tiny window, but wasn't able to see much. The cell had no furnishings, not even a chamber pot. She hoped it was an oversight and that she wouldn't have to squat over dirty straw in a corner when the time came. Eventually, she curled back up in the spot where she and Adrien had slept and tried to rest.

The better part of the day had passed when Adrien finally came back. 

“He kept you a long time,” Marinette commented. “Is Bridgette alright?” 

“I think she’s fine. Felix escorted her back to her rooms. I really don’t like that guy.” 

“That makes two of us," agreed Marinette. She crossed the room and curled her fingers around the cold bars, noticing for the first time that Adrien was unaccompanied. "Are you... coming back in?"

Adrien frowned and Marinette's heart sank. His words confirmed her fears.

"Actually, the Emperor said I'm free to go," he admitted.

"What? What did you talk about?" Marinette could hardly believe her ears. Favorite gladiator, indeed!

"It was weird. I don’t know; he asked me how my mother was. He said he’d met her on a trip to Gaul over twenty years ago, when Felix was still an infant. He said she’d been a gracious hostess and he’d never forgotten her kindness. He wasn't explicit, but I got the impression he was releasing me as a favor to her, or something like that. I... the details are a little fuzzy. I got pretty hungry and tired in there. I was standing up and waiting for a long time. Here, I grabbed you some food."

Marinette took the warm roll of meat and bread through the bars and tore into it eagerly. A bird called outside and Adrien raised his head sharply. As he did so, Marinette caught the little edge of a shadow, like an aura, behind him. She blinked a few times. She felt so tired, she was seeing things.

"They won't let me stay," Adrien continued. "You know I would. I think I probably better go back to the _ludus_ , try to explain things to Nathalie and Alya."

Marinette nodded in agreement. "I know. You're right." 

She sighed, looking at the cell. There was no way to know how long she would be in here. Would Emperor Hawkmoth summon her? Or would he just sentence her like the low-life she was? There were fates worse than death in the arena, after all.

He wouldn't be able to completely avoid notifying her parents. He was marrying her sister, after all, and Bridgette would surely send them word of their long-lost daughter. Any message was sure to take weeks, if not months, however. A lot could happen in that time, including a conviction for treason and an execution.

Adrien sighed as he watched Marinette's mouth settle in a half-moon frown. He reached through the bars and took her hands, gently tugging her close to the gate.

"We'll get you out of here. We'll figure out a way," he promised with conviction. Even if he had to use Plagg to physically rip the bars off the window, he'd see her free. 

Marinette's lower lip trembled slightly. It was different, how she no longer hid her feelings behind a cool façade with him. If anything, he thought her stronger. He ran curled fingers along the line of her jaw and she arched her neck upward to him. He pressed his cheeks against cold metal and took her lower lip in his, kissing her with as much passion as he could muster until she drew away breathless.

"We'll find a way," he repeated, and then he had to force himself to turn away, to put one foot in front of the other, to not look back so that he could keep going.

Pacing became a regular activity for Marinette as she waited in her cell. Confinement to one small square room made life difficult for the active young woman. The situation improved slightly when Adrien, Alya, and Nino brought her a bed roll and a bucket, as well as the pitcher and cup from her room. 

“The scandal is all over Rome,” Alya informed her as they passed over her possessions. “The official line is that Emperor Hawkmoth is considering his options. With your royal heritage, there’s a bit of a conundrum over whether you can actually be owned or not. Oh, and then there’s the requirement in Dupania that the eldest royal children be married off first. You’ve basically busted up the wedding for now.” 

Alya, to her credit, was completely unfazed by the revelations regarding Marinette’s true identity. Marinette was grateful for the small amount of normalcy. 

“How do you know about Dupania’s laws and policies? I don’t know if they even apply inside the Empire.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Well, last week politics was all a blur to me, but now I have a vested interest. It’s not hard to pick things up if you listen.” 

Marinette pulled the other woman into a tight hug. 

“Thank you,” she said, tears lightly shimmering in her eyes. 

“For what?” Alya’s eyes were also brimming, but she brushed at them, annoyed. 

“Just for… being who you are. Being my friend. In case I don’t get to say it again.” 

“Shut up. You’re not allowed to talk like that. Everything’s going to be fine.” Alya forced conviction into her voice. “I’ll be back to visit you tomorrow. Maybe I can finally run into your sister.” 

Marinette laughed. “I’d be delighted. You know where to find me.” 

The better part of a week passed with long hours of boredom broken up by visits from friends or Bridgette. Curiously, Adrien only made it by for a brief stop every day - but he did come each day. He always sought her hand or gave her a kiss, but the light in his eyes seemed diminished. She wondered if he was sleeping well. Hopefully better than she was, at any rate.

With her mask gone, Marinette began to worry about her appearance for the first time in six years. Maybe she wasn't as interesting without the alluring spell of the anonymous Ladybug. She felt a dazed kind of hurt at the end of his short visits, even though they were meant to be a comfort.

In the quiet darkness of the fourth night of Marinette’s stay in prison, an odd clamor by her tiny window startled her out of her bedroll. With a clink and a hiss, something small dropped into her cell and landed gently in the dirt. She took cautious steps toward the object, then recognized Tikki's statue and ran forward.

"Tikki!" she cried, relieved. "Oh, Tikki, are you alright?"

The gentle spirit rose from its red enameled likeness and snuggled close to Marinette's cheek. "I'm fine, Marinette. I'm so sorry I couldn't come sooner."

"No, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I ever got the stupid idea in my head to break into the palace. Wait, how did you get here?" Marinette glanced up at the window to see two familiar luminous green eyes blinking down at her. "You?!" she exclaimed.

The talking black cat from Saturnalia dropped neatly into the cell next to her and strutted forward to inspect her empty dinner plate.

"Me," he confirmed over his shoulder.

Tikki giggled. "Marinette, this is Plagg. He's from upper Gaul."

"Um, _salve_ , Plagg," Marinette said, nonplussed.

"Do you have anything to eat in here? That statue wasn't exactly easy to carry. I'm hungry." Plagg's feline nose twitched as he walked the perimeter of the cell, eyes open for scraps.

"Sorry, no," Marinette replied, giving Tikki a look.

"Plagg and I have been making friends in your absence. We met when you were poisoned. He's not really a cat, by the way." Tikki settled onto Marinette's pillow, relaxing back to look up at the young woman.

"You don't say. He certainly acts like a cat... except for the talking."

"Speaking of which," Plagg interjected, "Don't you have more than chit chat to go over with her, Tikki? I've got concerns too, you know."

"Concerns?" asked Marinette, her eyebrows dipping down.

"He's acting weird. I can't figure out what's up." Plagg finally gave up the search for food and flopped down on his haunches facing Marinette.

"Who's acting weird?" she asked, mystified.

"The kid. He's more withdrawn than usual. Not like we were best buds, but I know him better than anyone else and he's definitely off."

"He means Adrien," Tikki supplied.

"You know Adrien?" she asked Plagg, who gave an exasperated harrumph.

"Yes, I know Adrien," Plagg replied with exaggerated slowness, as though talking to a small child. "I'm his... what would you call it, Tikki?"

"Their relationship is similar to ours, Marinette," explained Tikki.

"Wait..."

"You didn't think he was just that acrobatic and that strong on his own, did you? The kid wouldn't have made it nearly as far in the arena without me watching his back. We had a good working relationship, with all the cheese I could want, until you came along and messed everything up." He spat the last words out with a hiss and jumped up suddenly, stalking away from Marinette.

"Ever so sorry," Marinette retorted, a sharp frown on her face. "Adrien never told me about you."

"Yeah, because I liked it that way. But now the kid's ignoring me, lost in his own world. I gotta do something different. So I brought Tikki to you."

Marinette reached under her bedroll for a bit of bread and cheese she'd been saving for later and tossed it toward Plagg. He pounced on it eagerly and devoured it in the space of one inhalation, emitting a satisfied burp after doing so.

"If that's your way of saying sorry, keep it coming," he sighed, laying back on his side.

"No, what I'm sorry about is that I trusted Adrien, but he apparently didn't trust me." Marinette found the quaver in her voice irritating. She took a steadying breath. "Tikki, so much has happened since the last time we talked."

The goddess floated up and patted Marinette's arm. "I'm here now. We'll sort it all out. Why don't you get some sleep, Marinette? Things always seem brighter in the morning."

Marinette nodded assent and slipped into her bedroll, Tikki snuggled close to her cheek.


	14. Keep Your Enemies Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette goes on trial before Emperor Hawkmoth. Adrien visits afterward.

One week after her discovery at the palace, Marinette was summoned by the Emperor to the throne room. As two palace guards waiting patiently for her to make herself presentable, she felt a thrill of nervousness pass over her.

“You’ll be fine,” Tikki whispered as Marinette tucked the small statue into her tunic.

It was too big to be properly hidden, but at this point. Marinette didn’t care. She needed her goddess with her. She hugged Tikki’s statue to her side and hurried out of the cell under the watchful eye of the palace guards.

She was loaded into a _carpentum_ , its interior warm in comparison with the bright, chilly winter air. She was jostled back and forth, the long ride threatening to lull her despite her apprehension. They arrived at the main entrance of the palace, where the guards politely handed her down. She was escorted to the throne room of the palace. Its festive glow was gone, replaced by cold, bare daylight supplemented by lamps that gave off smoky tongues of flame.

Emperor Hawkmoth sat straight and tall in his throne, his rich toga arranged in artful folds. Luxuriant carpets muffled the sound of her lonely footsteps as she crossed the generous expanse. Marinette caught sight of Bridgette standing behind and to the left of the throne. She was nearly hidden in a vibrant drapery that hung down. Felix stood in the opposite position on the right side.

Marinette didn't understand why either of them were present, watching in silence as she trudged slowly forward. As she came to the foot of the dais, she tripped on the hem of her long tunic. Marinette gasped as Tikki's statue tumbled out, coming to a soft landing on the lush fabric below her feet.

A guard stooped and quickly retrieved the statue before Marinette could snatch it back up. He brought it to Hawkmoth, who smiled quizzically as it was placed in his palm. Bridgette's eyes widened and Marinette knew her sister recognized the tiny goddess from their old home temple.

Schooling her features, Marinette straightened and brought her head up, tall, a proud daughter of Dupania. She wished with all her might that Adrien were there with her, but that was impossible. At least her sister was allowed to witness her trial. Emperor Hawkmoth cleared his throat. Before he could speak, Marinette kneeled and started talking.

"Your Majesty, as the first daughter of Dupania, I come before you today to offer my apologies, to strive for restitution and the reconciliation of Dupania to your Empire. As you are no doubt aware, our laws demand that the eldest daughter of a royal family be married before any others are spoken for. Therefore, I humbly request that I be allowed to fulfil my sacred duty as your bride, to bring peace and prosperity to both our peoples."

She snuck a glance upward and was dismayed to see Hawkmoth's mouth hanging slightly open. Surprise... surprise wasn't _good_ but she could work with it. Bridgette's eyes were bulging as well. Marinette suppressed a grimace, knowing that her sister had a lot she'd like to say in private when they had the chance.

She left unsaid her determination to do right by her sister and her people, as she'd failed to do six years before. A marriage to the Ageless Emperor would bring complete security to Dupania. The Empire's armies would defend Dupania's borders as if they were its own. This compromise would give Bridgette a measure of freedom neither woman had any right to expect. She could marry for love or not marry at all, if she so chose.

Hawkmoth closed his mouth and his expression turned calculating.

“You see my predicament, I’m sure,” the emperor said. “By rights, I _should_ marry the elder princess of Dupania. I’m at a bit of a loss in this situation, however, since I also own the elder princess of Dupania. It is somewhat unprecedented.”

“Your Majesty, I will gladly abide by your decision and marry you. I have too long ignored my duties to my people-"

Emperor Hawkmoth held up a hand, forestalling the rest of Marinette's convincing words. "I didn't say I _wanted_ to marry you. I said I _should_ marry you." His lips thinned into a humorless smile. "I'm sorry, my dear, but marriage to a gladiator would be quite impossible, regardless of Dupania's customs. There's no telling what kinds of objectionable arrangements you've been party to, living among the people that populate a _ludus_."

Marinette was piqued, her ears burning at his implication.

"Nothing objectionable has occurred during my career as a gladiator," she asserted, her mind straying guiltily to Adrien's fervid kisses before she forced it back to the conversation.

"You have only the word of a gladiator to rely on," Felix broke in, coming to stand beside his father's throne, "and so much to gain if you escape judgment."

“Indeed," Hawkmoth agreed. "You stand before me, Ladybug, with none to speak in your defense. I will pronounce your sentence.”

“I would speak for her,” declared Bridgette, stepping forward angrily.

“You might, but her father would not. Your words carry little weight in this court, Princess Bridgette. Perhaps when we are married I will take your opinion into account, but at this time, you are no more than an honored guest in my house. Due to the presence of your sister, I cannot even rightfully call you my betrothed."

Hawkmoth stood, staring down at Marinette with burning eyes. "Defiled and disgraced, this woman is of no use to Dupania. She is no better than a common slave.”

Bridgette stood still, her throat working against tears she knew better than to shed. Marinette closed her eyes, awaiting the pronouncement of her fate. Her final gambit had failed, and now she was left to the thin mercy of Emperor Hawkmoth. She opened her eyes to find him standing there with one finger on his chin, looking down at her statue.

 _What is he doing with Tikki?_ she wondered, feeling true fear for the first time.

“Your sentence is in keeping with your life,” Hawkmoth intoned loudly into the resonant structure of the room. “I pronounce you _damnata ad gladiatorium_ \- you will face execution by a gladiator of my choosing. But this will be no exhibition match, little Ladybug. This fight is to your death.

“I am not without mercy, however,” he said, inclining his head toward Bridgette, “If you best my champion in combat, you and your sister may both return to Dupania with a message of peace from the Empire. My armies will not molest your borders and our trade routes will flow freely.

“When you are beaten and bloody, little Ladybug, you will die understanding the inexorable power of this Empire I have built. You are but a small stone under my heel, threatening nothing, and I will see you pulverized into dust.”

He said this last with a ferocity that confused and frightened Marinette. She was no threat to his Empire. Was she being made some sort of example?

The emperor considered Tikki’s statue with keen eyes that saw more than clay and enamel. He threw it down violently, smashing it into two pieces against the dais. Bridgette's horrified gasp was swallowed up in the sound of Marinette's scream.

Miserable, Marinette cradled the broken pieces of Tikki’s statue as the _carpentum_ rocked slowly back and forth. Bridgette had not been allowed to join her on the ride back to her cell, but the sisters had been given a moment to embrace, muttering promises to one another as Marinette was taken away. Marinette whispered to Tikki’s statue, but there was no response.

Her own private gladiator game was set to start in three days. She would be allowed the use of a yard near the small building where she was confined for training and exercise. Perversely, Emperor Hawkmoth seemed to want her in good fighting shape to go up against his mystery gladiator. Without Tikki, Marinette didn’t know if there was much point. She would try. If this was the only way she could represent Dupania, she owed it to her countrymen to acquit herself with as much excellence as she could bring to her final fight.

The day after her trial, Marinette trained in the yard all morning. Around noon, Adrien’s familiar voice called to her from the doorway.

“Hey, Marinette,” he hailed her, raising an arm as he walked out onto the dirt.

She took one look and ran to him, dropping her practice trident in the dust.

“Adrien! Where have you been?”

He avoided her gaze, lips pursed in a sullen frown. “Just busy. Sorry. How are you?”

He stood with his hands pressed against the small of his back and elbows jutting out to either side. He didn’t reach for her as she expected, so she stood awkwardly with her arms folded over her chest.

“I’m… as well as can be expected. Not happy, but not bad for a woman on death row,” Marinette smiled to lighten her words, but he didn’t return the expression.

“That’s good. Training going well?”

“Yeah. Uh, Adrien?”

He looked up at her for the first time, his eyes dim and shuttered. “What’s up?”

“Are… are you angry with me?”

Adrien held her gaze for a moment, then glanced up and around the yard. “No, of course not. Why, did you do something wrong?”

Marinette clamped down on a blistering retort that rose to her lips. She exhaled through her nostrils and chose her words carefully. “I just wondered why you didn’t visit yesterday. It’s… weird not seeing you every day like I used to. And I’m sure you heard I had my trial.”

His callous shrug sent the jittery feelings in her chest rocketing down to the pit of her stomach. She wanted to scream, to demand an explanation from him. Instead she composed her own expression, lifting her chin and smoothing her face into stone as she watched him through half-lidded eyes.

She let the silence stretch between them, giving him time to find a response, but he didn’t appear inclined to speak at all. _Fine_ , she thought. _Just me, then_. What else should she expect from a partner who kept secrets from her? She regretted every thing she’d ever told him about herself.

“Do you have time to spar for a while?” she asked lightly, just as she would have a year ago when they’d first met.

“Nah, I have to get going. Good to see you, Marinette. Best of luck tomorrow.”

Adrien flashed her a grin that set her heart pumping, both because of and in spite of her anger. She wanted to run after him, maybe tackle him, she wasn’t sure. Instead, she took a couple of fortifying breaths and watched his broad shoulders retreat.

She shook her head and blinked at a funny optical illusion that trailed him out of the brightly lit enclosure. It was almost like the dark spot left in one's eyes after looking away from the sun. Incensed, she took out her disappointment and frustration on the _palus_ erected at the center of the yard, hitting and stabbing it for all she was worth until the guards recalled her to her cell.

The next day, Adrien didn’t visit her at all - again. Before bed, Marinette tried to console herself that any number of things could have prevented him from making the trek across the city. Without Tikki to talk to, her worst imaginings had free reign to travel well-worn ruts in her mind as she paced the perimeter of her cell.

Maybe his family had recalled him to Gaul. Maybe he’d been in a fist-fight with someone and was nursing stupid injuries. Maybe Alya and Nino needed him to babysit. _Maybe he just doesn’t care_ , the darkest parts of her heart whispered. She shook out her arms and shoulders as she walked, aware that the tension in her back from intense focus would only serve to make her stiff and sore in the morning.

Marinette stopped short as the moon crested the edge of her window and emitted a sliver of light to lay across her path. She glanced up at its bright beauty, momentarily breathless and small, just like when she was a little girl leaning against her bedroom windowsill.

“No,” she told herself, and with that, she stopped her pacing and planted her feet in the packed dirt.

In all her hours of training, she’d never used Tikki. She had relied on her own strength and ability to improve as a gladiator. In six years of learning her craft, she’d become the best, the most clever, the fastest. With or without her guiding goddess, she could face anything Hawkmoth threw at her. She would gain her freedom and become the pride of her people. Adrien or no Adrien, she would win the day. Resolute, she crossed to her bedroll and laid down to sleep in preparation for her fight.

 

The morning of Marinette's final fight dawned cloudy and cold. She lay on the floor of her cell, staring at the ceiling for a long time. She missed Tikki's comforting presence and sweet companionship more than she'd thought possible. Despite setting herself apart and hiding her true self away for six years, she was discovering - too late - that she'd never been truly alone. Sorrow warred with gratitude in her heart as she remembered her patroness.

The groaning hinges of her cell door caused her to sit up quickly, but the cloaked figure in the doorway revealed herself to be Bridgette and Marinette relaxed.

"Sister, I'm so glad you're here," she said, relieved.

Bridgette sat down close and gave Marinette a hug.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be. Hawkmoth's judgment is cruel and unnecessary. Listen, I have a plan to get you out of here.” She leaned in and whispered, “Felix told me all these stories about the Emperor…”

Marinette rolled her eyes, “I’ve heard them.”

“No, you don’t understand! Felix is no friend of his father’s,” continued Bridgette.

“Well, he’s no friend of mine, either.”

“Will you stop interrupting me? I’m trying to help here!” Bridgette’s sharp voice carried and both women ducked their heads as the guard glanced over to see what the fuss was about.

“Alright, I’m sorry. You were saying?” Marinette whispered.

“There are all these unbelievable stories and I’m convinced they have to do with that butterfly brooch he wears. Like how a mob of senators rushed in to kill him, closed the doors behind them, then half an hour later all walked back out singing his praises. How he turns hardened political enemies into friends. He’s convinced other heads of state to sign treaties that horribly abuse and disadvantage them. You’ve heard the story of how he got it?”

Marinette nodded, skeptical.

“So all I have to do is watch for the right moment and snag it. Simple.” Exasperated by her sister’s obvious reluctance, Bridgette huffed, “Or at the very least, it’s valuable. We could use it to force him to let us leave-”

“Bridgette, stop! You know that won’t work. How much of this is your own conclusion, and how much has Felix fed you?”

Bridgette dropped her eyes, caught.

“That’s what I thought. I don’t know what game he’s playing, but that butterfly brooch is meaningless. Since when are you two such good friends, anyway?”

Bridgette frowned. “I wouldn’t put it that way. He’s bored and I’m stuck in my rooms most of the day. We just talk a lot.”

“Clearly.” Marinette was surprised to see fresh tears moistening her sister’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Marinette. I just found you again. I can't stand to lose you," Bridgette croaked.

"No problem. You're not going to lose me," Marinette replied.

Bridgette sniffed, then looked at her sister, surprised.

"You heard me. Dry up. I'm going to win my fight." Marinette's eyes sparkled in the early morning gloom.

"You can't know that," Bridgette countered, bumping her shoulder against Marinette.

"Rule number one: believe you can win. If you think you'll fail, you will. You have to have hope." Marinette's heart twisted a little as she repeated Adrien's advice to the long-dead _tiro_ , but she cleared her throat and pressed on. "I'm the best gladiator in this city. Hawkmoth would have to have a serious heavy on retainer to get someone better than me into Rome in three days. It's logical to think I probably know my opponent. And every opponent I can think of is inferior. Ergo, I'm going to win my fight."

"I could trade places with you. They'd never guess..." Bridgette trailed off as Marinette shook her head.

"Never. Not in a million years. This is my path, Bridgette," she continued gently, taking her twin's hand in her own. "For better or for worse, my chance at freedom has come. I have to take it. I'm just glad you're finally here with me. I love you."

Bridgette's tears burst free once again as she enfolded her sister in a tight hug. "I'll be there every moment. I won't leave you alone. I love you, too."

"I know you do. Here, help me pack up. They're taking me back to Ludus Magnus to get ready for the match." With that, the sisters folded and stacked the few items scattered around Marinette's cell.

"I won't be sorry to leave here," she murmured, taking a last glance at the low roof and the tiny window.

The women parted ways at the entrance of the low building that had housed Marinette, each climbing into a _carpentum_ and each carried away in a different direction. Marinette was welcomed back heartily at Ludus Magnus, although the reunion was tinged with bitterness for her friends. Even Rose seemed to alternate between an indignant glower and barely restrained tears on her behalf as the young woman painted spots on Marinette for the last time.

Marinette had her first real bath in over a week. She tied on her red Ladybug mask and was outfitted with the finest items the _vestiarius_ had to offer. As she checked the knots on her padded arm guard, a young servant came running up with the news that Nathalie insisted on seeing her. Rolling her eyes, Marinette complied, but she was shocked when her _lanista_ simply ripped up the pieces of her gladiator contract.

“Regardless of the outcome of your next match, you’re no longer the property of this _ludus_ ,” Nathalie said succinctly, brushing her hands together as though to dust them off. “You may choose to return or seek a new life elsewhere. And... _bonam fortunam_ today, Ladybug.”

When she exited Nathalie’s office to make her last journey to the Flavian Amphitheatre, her heart was touched to see the school’s population standing side-by-side in a line that stretched all the way from the office to the tunnel that would take her to her destination. She hugged and clasped hands down the line, picking up Remus and carrying him for a bit with her.

 _This is what goodbye looks like,_ she realized, thinking back to the girl of fifteen who had stolen away in the night. Adrien was conspicuous by his absence, but Ladybug pressed her lips together in a thin line, refusing to ask his whereabouts. She wasn’t sure she wanted an answer.

Alya, uncharacteristically at a loss for words, accompanied her all the way through the tunnel until they reached the underground entrance of the amphitheatre.

“I don’t know what to say,” she sighed, taking Remus from Ladybug’s arm. The boy struggled, then stilled as his mother wrapped her arms around his tiny frame.

“No worries,” Ladybug replied. “I’ll see you in about an hour.”

Alya laughed as Ladybug winked at her and confidently went to her fate.

The cold silence of the Flavian Amphitheatre made Ladybug shudder as she strode through the empty hallways honeycombing its underside. She had never been to the arena when the crowds were absent. A faint coppery smell, slightly sweet and nauseating, still hung in the air. Ladybug didn’t linger, knowing the hour set for her match was approaching.

She emerged with quiet steps from a gate to the right of the Emperor’s box, wondering if the small party of spectators was even there yet. She shouldn’t have worried.

“Ah, Ladybug,” the Emperor himself called down to her. “You honor us with your presence.”

He was accompanied by two or three guards, a selection of his retinue, Felix and her sister. The box looked cozy, lined with furs to ward off winter’s chill. Bridgette sat next to Emperor Hawkmoth, thickly wrapped, but with a solemn expression no amount of covering could warm up. Ladybug smiled to herself, thinking privately that the Ageless Emperor had yet to realize the ways he might regret her death, if it happened here today. He cleared his throat.

“In my capacity as high judge and ruler of this Empire, I condemn you, Ladybug, to death by gladiator for your crime of treason. In the unlikely event that Fate brings you success in this arena, I bow to the will of the gods and commute your sentence; you shall go free. Stand ready, Gladiator, your executioner comes.” He gracefully swept one arm to his left, indicating the gate opposite Ladybug.

She stood firm, her bare heels planted in the sand, but her knees shook and became weak when she saw the familiar pointed ears of Chat Noir’s silhouette emerge from the shadow of the archway. All the blood in her face and arms drained away when he straightened fully in the sun, a piercing look of hatred deforming his handsome features.


	15. Final Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling conclusion!

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t. Ladybug dodged back, raising her trident to defend weakly against a blow from one of Chat Noir’s sabers as he pressed forward in attack. How had Hawkmoth accomplished this cruel trick? Money? Promises of freedom? Oh, goddess, had he threatened Chat’s sisters? Her mind reeled with betrayal, but her honed senses and muscle memory kicked in, keeping her a scant step ahead of her aggressor.

She leapt back and began to circle Chat Noir, gaining a bit of breathing room. He turned to watch her, his chest rising and falling as he panted. His eyes were cold...lifeless. Was he really the Chat Noir she knew?

Wheels turned in Ladybug’s mind. Chat Noir knew how she fought better than anyone in Rome, but the reverse was also true. Her executioner’s strength was also his weakness, she reasoned. She knew every trick he had up his sleeve.

Neither opponent could defend well, similar to his match against Chat Blanc. This fight would be quick and dirty - and definitely lethal. She despaired for a moment, struggling to weigh her own life against that of her best friend. _He won’t hesitate,_ she told herself coldly, _so you can’t either_. She stepped into range with a quick stab of her trident, a testing thrust. He batted it away with a saber and she jumped back again before he could employ the other one.

Ladybug was out of time. Any residual reluctance drained away when she caught a glimpse of Bridgette’s tear-streaked face above her. No more planning; she had to act or lose her life.

Chat Noir growled in irritation as she stepped back one more time, thinking she retreated in fear. She could almost swear she saw fangs gleam as he bared his teeth. Surely Plagg hadn’t joined him for this?

Ladybug cast her net in a wide arc over the space between them, hoping to entangle his swords before he could slice through the jumbled web. He dodged to one side, but her net caught one of his arms and the sharp weights knotted into its edge sliced shallow cuts against the back of his leg.

She’d taken the precaution of tying her net to her wrist - a tactic that could backfire, but proved useful this time. She yanked the rope hard, pulling Chat Noir off balance. If she could loop the slack of the net one more time, she’d have him...but she hesitated again. He slithered out from under the net and backed away.

 _You damn yourself, Damnata!_ she mentally scolded.

Chat Noir took a chance and lunged forward. He caught her off guard and she nearly dropped her trident as she raised her padded arm to take a blow from his swords. She gave ground, backing up almost to one wall of the arena under his attack.

“What, you don’t want to be close?” he taunted. “I thought you liked it when we were close.”

Ladybug’s heart sank, but she kept silent.

 

Bridgette leaned back, eyes closed. Tears of stress and anguish leaked from the corners of her eyes. She would stay to the end, but she could barely stomach watching her own twin sister fight that monster in the ring. She felt a hand on her shoulder and glanced back to see Felix. He wore an uncharacteristic expression of concern and she attempted a smile to reassure him. It crumpled under the weight of her own sadness. She bit back a sob, instead taking a deep breath to steady herself. The pressure of his hand released her and when she looked back, Felix was gone from the booth. Clearly he wasn’t able to handle strong emotions. She couldn’t decide whether to feel pity or derision as she looked at his empty seat.

 

Ladybug felt pressure mount as the minutes passed. She needed to end this fight soon. Without Tikki to help her, she was growing tired. She dodged under Chat Noir’s whirling blades with a speed she’d previously thought supernatural. Coming up under his guard, she pulled her dagger free of its place at her hip.

“Now or never,” she muttered, grimly bringing the blade up.

She gasped in surprise when Chat Noir smacked her hand away, the dagger skittering across the sand. He cracked her hard against the jaw with his sword hilt, knocking her to the ground. Ladybug struggled to rise with one arm underneath her. Chat Noir sat down on her, trapping her against the rough earth. It ground painfully against her shoulder blades. He swung his sword in an overhand arc, intending to bring it down on her, but she interposed the ragged remains of her arm padding.

The sword landed with a _thwack!_ that jarred her frame and rattled her teeth. The next blow would be her death, she knew. Ladybug stared her murderer directly in the face, intent that he never forget. Chat’s hooded eyes were no longer green, but purple in the shadow of his mask, a bruised, repugnant shade that disgusted her. Despite her intention, she shut her eyes and turned her face away.

A startling yell shook her. She felt Chat Noir’s weight shoved aside. A blur of limbs and muscles tackled him and Chat Noir rolled over and over with a stranger, the pair grappling furiously. It was Chat Blanc!

Ladybug scrambled to her feet just as she heard a roar of rage coming from Emperor Hawkmoth. Where had Chat Blanc come from? Why was he helping her? Her mind swirled with questions as the Emperor barked orders at his guards, but they couldn’t reach the sand in time. Enraged, Chat Blanc rained blows down on Chat Noir, more than a few hitting the mark. He caught sight of Ladybug’s discarded dagger near his knee and picked it up.

“No!” she shouted, running toward him. “Stop!! _Stop!!_ ”

Chat Blanc either ignored her or didn’t hear. He gripped the dagger with both hands and drove it down into Chat Noir’s chest to the hilt. Chat Noir’s yell of pain and frustration was mirrored by Hawkmoth overhead.

Ladybug spared the Emperor a glance, just in time to see him strike Bridgette, who clutched something in one fist. Off balance, Bridgette tipped backward and fell out of the high box onto the sand with a sickening smack.

Ladybug would have screamed, but a frightened choke of tears cut off her voice. Before she could rise from Chat Noir’s side, Chat Blanc was already racing to Bridgette. He whipped off his mask and slid in next to her, kneeling over her prone form.

“She’s dead!” he cried, raising his head to reveal Felix’s patrician features. He touched Bridgette’s hair, her arm, unsure whether to move her.

“No, she’s not,” Hawkmoth wheezed, seeming to need all his strength to lean out of the box overhead, “The butterfly. Pin it on her. Now. It can’t heal her, but it will sustain her life.”

Felix did as he was told, wresting the small charm from her grip and attaching it to her tunic. Ladybug glanced up at Felix’s father. He had gone completely gray, both in hair and skin color. The Ageless Emperor was aging right before their eyes!

“Mm-Marinette?” A soft voice, hardly more than a sigh, recalled her to her own tragedy.

Marinette pulled off her mask and knelt over Chat Noir. His eyes were green again, and filled with pain. His shallow breathing frightened her. She watched helplessly as blood leaked out heavily around her dagger. She gently stripped his mask away and stroked his cheek.

“I’m here, Adrien.”

“What happened? Where am I?” He seemed genuinely confused.

The stories were all true, Marinette realized. Chat Noir had been bewitched by the Emperor’s magic. She recalled the odd blackness shadowing him, the way he'd grown distant. Now his connection to the Emperor was broken, either because of his wound or the theft of the butterfly brooch. Regardless, she’d been a fool, and now it was too late.

“It...doesn’t matter.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I love you, Adrien.”

His eyes closed and his shallow panting began to ease. Marinette inched closer to him, her heart breaking. She’d seen this so many times. The important thing now was to make sure he wasn’t alone. She lay down full-length in the dirt next to him and took his hand in hers, careful not to touch or move the dagger. Her heart wrenched and her stomach knotted with every struggling intake of breath.

Something hard pressed against her side, under her arm padding. With a start, Marinette remembered Tikki’s broken pieces secreted away in her gladiator costume. She sat up and pulled them out, pressing the pieces together to make the little figure whole. A small flicker of hope blossomed in her chest.

“Tikki,” Marinette breathed, hardly daring to exhale, “Tikki, I need you.”

“Marinette!” came the quiet but clear reply.

A faint glow glazed the halves of Tikki’s statue. Marinette pressed on, determined.

“You don’t need the statue! This old dirt can’t confine you. You have my heart, Tikki. Come live… in me.”

At Marinette’s strident words, red fire rose from the broken bits and blazed forth before her eyes. Marinette stayed still as it centered itself over her left breast. Her air left her body in a whoosh as the fire slammed into her - not burning, but warming her to the depths of her soul. Marinette closed her eyes as a sense of peace, of fullness and wholeness, washed over her. When she looked down, her hands were luminous. A silent force compelled her to clutch the two pieces of clay in her fists and they became charged with light.

“Felix!” she commanded in a voice that was doubled, resonating with Tikki’s speech as well as her own, “Take this! Quickly!”

She threw a piece of Tikki’s broken statue to him. He caught it one-handed, keen eyes taking in the magic glow that renewed its lustre.

“What do I do with this?” he asked.

“Something miraculous!” she shouted back.

The half Marinette held was brightly aflame, but it didn’t burn her. She took a deep breath, then pulled the dagger from Adrien’s chest, pressing the piece down in its place. Felix simultaneously set his half over Bridgette’s heart.

They flared violently and went out.

Marinette stared down at the spot on Adrien’s chest, afraid to move her hand. The whole left side of his torso was slick with blood. Then she felt movement under her palm, a deep, slow heartbeat that grew strong. She cast away her bit of clay and wiped at the blood, inspecting Adrien’s flesh closely. No sign of injury remained - not a scratch or scar.

Twenty feet away, Felix supported Bridgette’s back as she sat up with a cough. They embraced tightly, the young man burying his face in Bridgette’s tangled tresses.

Marinette melted in relief, bringing her head to the ground as tears began to flow.

“Thank you, Tikki,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

A light touch on her shoulder made her lift her head. Adrien sat up next to her, a quavering smile passing over his lips as he looked from Marinette down to himself.

“This isn’t quite the outcome I was expecting,” he commented mildly.

Marinette’s laughter burst through her tears as Adrien gathered her into a hug.

 

Bridgette, Marinette, and Adrien waited anxiously outside Emperor Hawkmoth’s palace suite, crowded by a sycophantic retinue that alternately wailed and whispered to each other. Felix, after stating in no uncertain terms that none of the three were to be molested by the guards, had closeted himself with his father.

It was clear to all that the Ageless Emperor wouldn’t last much longer. The skeletal figure gently carried back to the palace had been nearly unrecognizable. His dry lips and ashen, paper-thin skin looked like ancient papyrus about to disintegrate into dust and blow away.

Felix had taken the purple butterfly charm back from Bridgette when he’d gone in to see his father.

“By rights, it’s still his, although I don’t know how much good it will do now,” he’d told them.

The normally sarcastic young man had lost all hint of mocking in his tone. Today’s revelations had worked a change in him, Marinette was sure of it. After what seemed like hours, during which several of the retinue had laid down against the walls in exhaustion, Felix came out of the room visibly shaken.

“He’s dead,” he said quietly. His eyes flicked over to Adrien, who still stood in his bloodied arena garb. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Adrien asked, puzzled.

“Just… sorry,” Felix didn’t elaborate, scrubbing his fingers over his blue-gray eyes.

“That makes you Emperor now,” Bridgette gently reminded him.

“Yeah. Yes. It does. What time is it?” he blinked at them blearily, clearly lost in the swirl of events.

Marinette herself felt much like a leaf in a stream. Compassion for the disdainful man blossomed within her and she put a hand on his arm.

“Come sit down,” she suggested, drawing him to a pair of chairs with a small table between them, the kind of setting that made the hallway seem warmer but had never been used.

Felix took her advice, settling into a chair with a long sigh. He stared down at the butterfly brooch.

“I won’t wear it,” he decided as Bridgette sank down into the chair next to him.

“I think that’s wise,” she agreed. “Power isn’t meant to last forever. Your sense of stewardship becomes warped.”

He stared at Bridgette for a long time. It was long enough to make Marinette uncomfortable, but her sister didn’t seem to mind.

“I have to make some decisions,” he said after a time. “You’re officially free from your agreement, Bridgette. If I’m honest, I have to say that I regret it somewhat. Your presence in this palace has made the last month here… bearable. I can send you home, but I wonder if you’d consider marrying me instead?”

Marinette was shocked, thinking she’d misheard him, but Bridgette simply sat and looked at him with an inscrutable little smile on her face.

“A generous interpretation of what you just said is that life without me is unbearable, Felix. If you promise to work on your compliments, then the answer is yes.” Her smile widened as Felix covered his face with both hands and laughed.

“I promise,” he replied, his normally dour features turning sanguine.

“Um… congratulations?” Marinette offered, searching her sister’s expression and seeing only happiness.

“You two,” Felix replied, her comment bringing the pair of gladiators back to his attention. His face dropped back into its haughty lines. “I own you now. I think it legally stands that your execution was mis-managed, Ladybug.”

“That’s not-” Adrien started, but Felix cut him off.

“I won’t mince words. I’m not in the business of revenge, and if I were, there’s none to be had. I extend a _rudis_ to both of you - as soon as one of these lackeys brings them, you’re both free.”

Felix snapped his fingers and a man took off running to find a pair of the symbolic wooden swords.

“Free?” Marinette echoed, hardly daring to believe her ears.

“Free,” Adrien confirmed.

He took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

“If you’ll excuse us, Emperor Felix, I think we have some things to discuss as well.”

THE END


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